Play On
by Aea
Summary: He had enough problems right now; this guy was the last thing he needed..."You must be my roommates." Movie from Duke's POV
1. I'm a Striker

This is my first solid effort at a long fic, and my first out of the cartoon/comic book realm. I was tempted by a friend's suggestion to "fix" what she (and I) thought to be lacking in both the original Twelfth Night story and She's The Man- the fact that we get very little insight into the character of Duke Orsino. Since, of course, improving on Shakespeare is sort of impossible (at least for me) I have confined myself to the world of STM. Think of this as what the movie might be if we followed Duke around instead of Viola. However, with that in mind, you should have seen the movie first or else this probably won't be as interesting ;-)

There is a fair amount of exposition in this first section, but please give it a fair shot. The movie doesn't really get moving from Duke's point of view for a fair bit, so I established a lot of back-story for him and all that groundwork is laid out here.

I also had to take a few liberties with the whole debutante thing to make it fit with the movie. I have never known a deb event to still allow people in only two weeks out, but I have seen a few keep 'standby' escorts to prevent someone from having to walk alone. My overall experience in that arena is limited, so take everything with a grain of salt.

I don't own Twelfth Night, She's the Man, or any trademarked brands mentioned in this fic.

Play On

Chapter 1

_Football is all very well as a game for rough girls, but is hardly suitable for delicate boys._ -Oscar Wilde

_Every time I went away I was deceiving my mum. I'd tell her I was going to school but I'd be out on the street playing football._ -Ronaldo

Oddly enough, Duke was glad to be going back to school.

He wouldn't trade his spot at Illyria for one at any other high school in the world, but when August rolled around Duke often wished that it wasn't the first in the city to return to class. Public schools didn't start for nearly three weeks, and that other prep-in-the-area-that-didn't-deserve-to-be-named for another two. Rumor had it that some of _those guys_ were out playing at the beach today (though he'd never say it, Duke privately thought that they were celebrating having it all to themselves for the rest of summer), and he would give a lot to be off campus and go investigate who'd been invited to the game and how they were doing.

The approach of senior year, though, still garnered an oddly desperate welcome. Partly due to a summer colored by excessive dramatics, and partly due to the compelling desire to prove his worth as team captain, Duke felt relieved as he wrenched bags out of the car and onto Illyria grounds once more. The only piece of luggage to receive any kind of care was the red duffle containing his most precious cargo: ball, practice jersey, and –the newest but highly regarded element– captain's armband. Getting the nod hadn't really come as a surprise, but coming off a loss in last year's state championship game meant the bar was set pretty high and Duke was determined not to disappoint.

Of course, there was still the matter of moving all his stuff back into the room. Shaking his head with the knowledge that he would never need half the things his mother had loaded him down with, he glanced around in the hopes that someone else would be around to help. Not a soul. Great.

Orientation for freshmen started tomorrow, and for transfers the day after; most of the student body, and therefore, most of his friends, wouldn't show up until well after the chaos of froshie move-in subsided. He'd rather avoid the whole mess himself, if he could, but one of the "perks" of his new position was Principal Gold's subsequent requirement to help welcome the newbies. He _had _been planning to skip it regardless, but that plan was quickly cut short. By the end of summer he found himself unable to stand his mother's posturing in the wake of divorce number two, and excused himself the second he was able.

An hour and three trips from car to room later, Duke laid on his bed both exhausted and bored. _Home at last._ The empty half of the room felt wrong. He missed the camaraderie that usually accompanied move-in day: hourly pizza delivery, impromptu hallway hockey, and the lack of his erstwhile roommate and best friend wasn't helping matters. Having Rob around wouldn't solve any of his current problems, but at least he'd have someone to complain to.

Of course, the man in question had graduated last year and currently was near the top of Duke's list of complaints (second only to his mother), so maybe that wouldn't work out so well.

His mood didn't improve as he wandered out of the building, refusing to dwell on the depressing silence. Judging from the fact that everyone's mailbox had a brand new copy of the dorm life pamphlet and schedule of events for 'welcome week', it appeared that Malcolm had also returned early and was Hall Director yet again. Only he would think that the returning upperclassmen would read, follow, or care about either.

A cursory glance at the schedule told him what he already knew: the freshmen were in for six boring hours tomorrow, and he was going to try his best to avoid the whole damn thing. Really- who wanted this more than once in a lifetime? He had a feeling that if the new students survived the _Get to Know You Pancake Breakfast with the Headmaster!_ they would have learned everything they need to know or transferred out. Exactly what was he supposed to contribute?

Only one other item seemed to demand his attention: _Welcome Address from Senior Class President Olivia Lennox_.

Well, hell. That had some potential. That meant that she would be here tomorrow. That she was probably here today. That he had been sitting in his room, doing nothing, while Malcolm was out somewhere, probably following Olivia from the bushes with goofy eyes and creepy breathing…the jackass. Duke clenched his fists at the thought.

Olivia had had a rough summer. Duke knew more details about her failed college relationship than most at Illyria, and hoped that it would give him enough to start a conversation. Granted that he could find her.

"Why! Captain Orsino! Welcome, welcome! How lovely to see you out and about! Are you ready to guide our precious youngsters on their hairy adolescent journey, through the hallowed halls of Illyria?" Principal Gold, holding several sheets of glittery poster board, a hammer, and a chef's hat, spoke before Duke could formulate a plan to get away. "Oh, to be hairy and adolescent again. Why when I was young I recall being so full of…"

_Save me!__I won't be picky, someone, _any_one, please interrupt this conversation! _Duke didn't normally rely on divine intervention, but as the principal prattled on he was pretty sure that was his only chance of getting out of this without Gold trying to hug him, which he could really do without.

"- but I'm sure you two will get along great. I'll trust to keep an eye on him between my little visits, alrighty?"

"Huh? What was that?" '_What the hell is he talking about? What have I gotten into?'_

"Sir!" Okay, maybe he should have been more specific. A miracle in the form of Malcolm wasn't exactly what he had in mind. If it were the lesser of two evils, he'd take the high-spirited principal any day. "I just wanted to let you know that I finished posting orientation schedules in all the freshman dorms ahead of schedule. Should I go assist Olivia?" It was common knowledge that Malcolm had run for Senior Vice-President in an effort to require more of his time be spent with Olivia. Did he really have to push it?

Hoping for a quick exit, Duke quietly took a step back from the pair, but the action only seemed to draw Gold's attention back on him. He handed the roll of posters to Duke, and wrapped an arm around each young man. "Here's an idea. Why don't the both of you go help her? I should go taste syrups and butters for tomorrow's breakfast! Have you ever had a poor syrup? I could tell you stories, but your innocent minds just couldn't take it. See you tomorrow!" With that, Principal Gold galloped off. Malcolm turned and began walking as well, leaving Duke with the choice to follow or not. After a moment's hesitation he did, idly wondering how hard he could whack Malcolm with the cardboard roll without damaging it. Probably not very hard.

Malcolm, determined to ignore Duke's very existence, never saw it coming.

* * *

Compared to the silence on the rest of campus, the main entryway was a flurry of activity. A dozen or so other students, only a couple of which Duke recognized, were decorating signs and hanging banners. Olivia stood in the middle, looking especially beautiful and going over something in a blue binder with Maria. Since he had no clue what to do, approaching her seemed like a reasonable option.

_Hi_. Right. Like that would sweep her off her feet.

_That guy you were dating is a jerk. You deserve better. _What was he, a girl?

'_Liv! What's up? _Lame.

_Olivia! Long time no see._ Even more lame.

_Hi Olivia. How are you?_ Perfect. Simple. Very little chance he could screw it up. It would probably lead to a conversation, which could lead to dinner and that…

"Duke! Don't just stand there. If those are the signs for registration, go put them over by Eddie. And see if the two of you can finish assembling the tables there." Olivia's clipped voice knocked him out of his reverie.

'_Idiot! Say something.' _"Uh, what? Ye...yeah. Sure." There went his suave greeting. She muttered a response he couldn't hear, but made Maria giggle.

He tossed the posters on the grass, no longer concerned that one or two had a dent in the middle, as Eddie approached. He was a good enough guy, a captain on the lacrosse team that Duke knew through the occasional interaction, and looked like he felt just as out of place.

They bent over their project for a few moments. "So why, exactly, are we here?" It was the first time he'd dared ask the question, and Eddie shuddered.

"Don't make me think of it. I made the mistake of asking Gold this morning; he gave me a twenty minute lecture about all the freshmen needing "unofficial big brothers" or some shit."

"Attention! Attention everyone!" '_What moron gave Malcolm a megaphone? ' _

"While we are outside today, I'll need you all to keep hold of any large, deceased insects you may come across. Malvolio has recently changed to an all natural diet and with everyone's cooperation-"

'_You've got to be kidding me'_. That was the last straw. He was going to lock himself in his room until graduation.

* * *

"Hel_lo_? C'mon, man, we know you're in there!"

"Duke! Dude, get your lazy ass out here!"

Blurry-eyed, Duke rolled over and spent several seconds bringing the clock into focus. Just after two in the afternoon. '_Probably shouldn't have played video games so late last night.'_ Looks like he at least succeeded in missing the freshman move-in and breakfast, but he'd also missed Olivia's speech. '_You win some, you lose some'._ After yesterday, it seemed a fair trade.

He could still hear incessant pounding on his door. Toby and Andrew, among others, had returned. Yesterday he would have jumped at the chance to see some friendly faces, but the dealings with Malcolm and Gold on top of failure to speak to Olivia set him in a bad mood. He debated ignoring them, though years of past history told him that they weren't likely to be put off.

"Alright, give it a rest. I'm coming"

"'Bout damn time." Toby said as he opened the door, "We've been out here for fifteen minutes. Weren't you supposed to be up babysitting newbies this morning?"

"Give me a break. Like I don't have better things to do." Andrew and Toby shared a look that clearly conveyed their amusement. Unless it was soccer, Duke rarely had anything he considered important to do.

"I bet one of those things is helping us haul our stuff in from the cars. Let's go, _mon capitaine_."

And so Duke found himself once again hauling bag after bag down the long hallway. As seniors, they had all finally been able to get the rooms at the end of the wing. Duke knew they would be grateful for the lack of noise later in the semester, but it did nothing to make moving in less of a pain in the ass. Most of the upperclassmen that were on or going out for a team were trudging around doing the same; sports tryouts started tomorrow and presence was mandatory, even for veteran players. He pitied any of the students that would have to move in during regular hours tomorrow, when all the extra energy got worked off in the hall. '_Why can't the year just start already?'_

"So, I hear you had an eventful summer." Andrew heaved his overstuffed duffle onto his bed, scattering the pile of linens and clothes already lying there.

"I see good news travels fast. Who'd you hear that from?" Duke hadn't so much as breathed a word about anything 'eventful' to either of them, and neither Andrew nor Toby lived in the area. There were only a few ways he would hear enough to say something, and Duke had a feeling he knew. Andrew wouldn't meet his eye.

"Rob."

"Rob is full of it."

"So you two still haven't kissed and made up," Off Duke's glare, Andrew held up his hands and continued defensively. "Look, I don't care what kind of old captain/new captain struggle you guys are having or if you two never speak again, but this year was always going to be our year. Our last chance at a championship. Almost all the starters are returning. We open against Cornwall. I would like to know that you're going to be able to focus on the team without letting Rob, or Olivia, or whoever else screw with your head." Andrew was partial to dramatic speeches, but he was also one of few guys on the team that didn't usually get intimidated by Duke physically or otherwise. When Duke needed to be told something that he wasn't going to like, it was usually Andrew that said it.

"I'm still pissed at Rob, and Olivia is probably still determined not to give me a second glance. My mom is still driving me crazy. But _none_ of that is going to get in my way of winning state this year." Toby entered the room with last suitcase as Andrew nodded once in understanding. He wanted the title too.

"If you're both done acting like girls, Dinklage is looking for you, Duke. We'll go make sure your PlayStation is working right while we wait on you."

"Thanks."

"No sweat. We're here for you, man."

* * *

Although most might think it was strange, Coach Dinklage's office had gotten more daunting for Duke every year. Maybe because he was overly cocky in his freshmen year and it didn't intimidate him then as it should have, or maybe because every season after that mattered to him so much more. Crossing through the locker room towards the door as a senior and captain though, felt different. The names of returning players were already carefully lettered over their locker bank, lines of cleats, jerseys, and soccer balls sitting patiently across them, cleaner and more orderly than they would ever be after today. There was a kind of cackle in the air, a readiness. This was his kingdom, and he felt ready to go to battle.

Dinklage, leaning against the door to his office, seemed to understand and appreciate his thought, even if neither of them said a word. Without breaking the silence, he gestured toward the chair opposite his desk inside. When the coach remained standing and started pacing behind his desk, Duke knew whatever was coming wasn't good.

"We're a seasoned team this year, Duke. We have a lot of good players." He knew that already. '_Is this some kind of test?'_ "And we're sure to get several more tomorrow."

"I …certainly hope so, sir?" Dinklage had reached the end of the small room, and turned around from the wall to face Duke.

"They'll be counting on you to be their guide. Their rock. Someone they can count on. I'm counting on that too." More pacing.

"I don't plan on letting anyone down." He didn't. If anything, he was even more determined now to make his team successful.

"You've been a critical member of the team for the past three years. Remarkable and consistently so the entire time." The pacing continued. Duke was getting a little dizzy.

"Thank you?" '_He's setting me up for something. I can practically see the other shoe about to drop. What could I have done already?'_

"So imagine my surprise when Gold mentions to me how sorry he was that my captain, my team's mainstay, my hand-picked field commander, missed "a boatload of syrupy goodness" at the freshman breakfast." _The HELL? _Dinklage was going to read him the riot act because he'd missed the principal's stupid frosh thing? He didn't even like Gold OR freshmen!

"Coach, come on. That stuff… isn't really my thing. There was no reason for me to be there." Dinklage suddenly stopped moving. '_Wrong thing to say._ _Wrong, wrong, wrong. Idiot, you know better than to walk into his argument like that!' _

"No? You saw _no_ reason to honor your commitments? _No_ reason to support your school, which has never failed to support your team? _No reason_ to exert the same influence on those students as you are expected to have on your teammates?" During a game, when they needed to hear it on the pitch, Dinklage was loud and angry. Almost all other times, he was quiet and angry, and that was definitely worse. Duke opened his mouth once or twice, trying to come up with a worthy defense. He quickly gave up. "I expect more than that. These boys take their cue from you. I know you're a good player. I know our side will be good this year. But you need to be more than that. You need to show them greatness. You have," a glance at his watch, "seventeen hours to make up your mind to do that. If that's not something you can or will do, don't set foot in my stadium tomorrow."

Duke wished could just be punched in the face instead. It would be easier to deal with and respond to. His determination to take Illyria all the way this year was strong, but there had to be something he could do to prove that to the coach and the team.

The walk back to the dormitory was a slow one.

* * *

The perfect capstone of his weekend was being locked out of his own room. Too weary to yell over the sounds of Offroad Fury 3, Duke simply leaned against the door and pounded.

"Damn, is that the delivery guy already?" Toby's voice got clearer as he approached the door from the other side, "Give me twenty bucks, man."

"Screw you. Why do I always have to pay for pizza?"

Tired or not, Duke was losing patience. "Will one of you just get the damn door!"

It opened to an apologetic Toby, "Sorry. Didn't expect you back so soon. We figured you and Dinklage would yap for hours about the Cornwall game. By the way, your mom called." Correction: Being locked out was nothing; a conversation with his mother was definitely just the thing to twist the knife of crappy weekend in his gut. "The message is on your machine." Small favor.

"_Hi my little caterpillar! Just checking in to make sure you got settled. Now, I know you're busy, but I still have some lovely girls that need escorts, so try to keep the twenty-second open. I may need you to be a spare escort in case some poor soul loses hers. Why, we had a girl register just today, if you can imagine that! Also, the carnival is next week- isn't that exciting? All of our debs are working at it, and I know at least one, Olivia Lennox, goes to your school, so you should come and show some support! Daphne managed to fill out the rest of the volunteer spots, but I'll still expect you to be there. It's for charity. Also, try and find some time this week to get your hair cut, will you? We'll be taking program pictures soon."_

Toby looked confused. "I know I don't know your mom all that well, but she sounded unusually…cheerful." Duke sighed in response. That was a polite way to put it. Step dad number two had gotten a little too friendly with his secretary over the summer, and Cheryl wasted no time in kicking him to the curb. She had thrown herself into medication and Junior League as a result, being elected president and debutant coordinator in quick succession. She played the part well, but Duke couldn't help but wish she would drop the stepford act. He avoided his mom these days, and their few interactions tended to be cold, but he missed the parent she used to be. When he was younger, and his dad had been around, things had seemed much…warmer.

"I guess…I had to start tuning her out over the summer." The ring against his chest shifted as if to remind him otherwise. "She's gone nuts."

"Sounds like she's spoken to Olivia, though." Andrew commented with a grin. "Maybe your _mommy_ could set you two up." He chuckled as this suggestion was rewarded with a soccer ball to head.

"So how is the lovely Lady Olivia? Is she still on the rebound?" Toby had an annoyingly suggestive leer on his face, but Duke was too depressed to do anything more than huff in return.

"Shut up."

"Come on. If you were any kind of man, you'd pounce. Did you even try to make nice during your early arrival?"

"No. She barely said anything to me. I didn't expect much different." Not after seeing her swear that her brother, ex-boyfriend, and every soccer player in the world was dead to her. Duke refused to show how much even the memory stung; he'd tried his best to defend her and ended up getting cast aside just because… The whole mess was entirely the fault of Rob and his dumbass college friends.

_Late July in New Haven _

_Olivia stood straight up, looking damnably beautiful in her shorts and t-shirt. It was windy that afternoon, and her hair was being tossed around in perfect harmony with her anger. She had seemingly appeared in the park out of nowhere, halting their impromptu game. I thought she looked like a goddess, come down to wreck some sort of havoc on the mere mortals of Earth. When she spoke, the sound broke me._

"_I don't understand! How could you do this?" The park was empty except for the five sweaty guys in front of her. I would have rather been anywhere else in the world, though I was pretty sure Olivia didn't even notice me at all. Her attention was riveted on the man to my left. Rob's roommate. Her boyfriend. From the beginning I had never liked him, and the feeling was made all the worse when he started dating Olivia. _

"_Calm down, baby, I-"_

"_Don't '_baby' _me. I know what's going on." Olivia waved some kind of an object that couldn't be seen clearly in his face, which must have meant something to the two of them as her boyfriend suddenly paled._

_I was totally prepared to punch the guy on Olivia's behalf (or possibly just for my own peace of mind) when I noticed Rob looking oddly uncomfortable._

"_What do you know about this?"_

"_He's got another girl now." Rob whispered back to me. "He met a cheerleader at the welcome back party we had last week. Olivia must have found out."_

"_So, you knew he was cheating on her? You didn't say anything?" Unbelievable. _

"_What was I supposed to do? He's my teammate; I wasn't just going to screw him over. I'd do the same for you." Rob gave me a grin, as though this was some sort of special consideration._

"_Do me a favor and don't. Jesus Rob, don't you want to look out for Olivia at all?" The two of us looked at the girl in question as silence suddenly filled the air. When Olivia spoke, her voice was weak._

"_Please, just stop seeing her. I…I know things happen. We can…" _

"_Liv, I'm sorry. I didn't really want to do this in public. It's just not going to work out. I have too much to handle right now with the season about to start without adding a high-school girl to the mix." Olivia's shoulders shook and a horrible sob-like sound emerged. I admit was relieved to see the anger return seconds later. I wasn't sure what I would do if she broke down right here and now, but I was sure that I would have to do something. Anything was better than watching her fall apart. Anything. _

"_Fine." She tossed the object in her hand, a camera, to Rob as he became the target of her fury, "This is yours. Full of pictures of you and my boyfriend whoring around with cheerleaders last weekend. I get it. You stupid jocks are a team, practically brothers. Brothers! You protect _each other_. You only care about yourselves! Don't worry; I won't make this mistake again. I swear to God, I'm never speaking to any more of you as long as I live!" As she ran off, I didn't hesitate in running after her. I was never really the sort to seek out emotional confrontation, especially with girls. But _that_comment couldn't go unanswered. She didn't really mean _every _soccer player, right? I hadn't even gotten a chance! _

"_Olivia! Wait up!" She didn't wait, and I followed her to the parking lot before she stopped to speak._

"_Duke, look. I don't care about whatever excuse you have for Rob, or his friends, or for any of them. Please just don't speak to me. I need to go home." I had nothing to say to that. Hours, even minutes, later, I would have all sorts of ideas how to handle this. Beg her to listen. Ask for a chance to prove he was a decent guy. Tell her that Rob and all his friends were assholes. But at that moment, seeing her eyes full of tears, my chest felt too tight to speak and I had no choice but to let her get away. _

"Hellooo…Earth to Duke!" Andrew returned his earlier hit with the soccer ball. "You were totally gone there, man."

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"I asked what you were going to do with the extra space now that Rob graduated."

"This is totally going to be the party room." Toby answered, "We'll make it the place that all the ladies like to hang out!"

Duke shook his head. Just what he needed. "I don't know…I think Gold wants to stick me with someone new." Duke wanted to avoid any and all talk of ladies or roommates for the rest of the evening. There was only one surefire way to accomplish that.

"So, which one of you losers wants their ass kicked at Offroad Fury?"

* * *

He felt like he was on much more familiar turf the next day. It was the customary organized chaos; the majority of the student body was moving in that morning and every sort of conceivable piece of sporting equipment littered the hallways as players and hopefuls dashed in and out. As had become his tradition (Toby and Andrew had termed it 'The Malcolm Reflex'), Duke took advantage of the disorder to 'accidentally' hit Malcolm in the head at every opportunity as he helped friends bring in their stuff.

He kept a close eye on his watch. Tryouts started at noon, but returning soccer players were meeting at eleven. In an effort to prove himself to Dinklage, he was determined to show up early. At ten, much to the amusement of Toby and Andrew (who were still trying fruitlessly to beat his high score on the game from the night before), he locked himself in his room, spread his jersey out on his bed, and stared at it. Somehow he was sure it held the secret to getting on Dinklage's good side again. Even laid out next to the bright jersey, the armband stood out. He could swear the damn thing was making fun of him. In retaliation, he grabbed it in a fist and shoved it to the bottom of his duffle bag. Maybe it would suffocate.

"Are you alright man? I've never seen you look so…freaked out." Toby's voice was half concern, half 'you're acting like such a pussy' accusation and rubbed Duke entirely the wrong way.

"I'm fine! I'm just trying to get all my shit together. You guys should be doing the same. We have to go in half an hour." It came out a harsher than he intended, but neither of the other boys seemed phased. "If you're so concerned about time," Toby responded without looking up from his game, "why aren't you dressed yet?"

Because the thought of actually being ready to go face Dinklage and his new team gave him the urge to throw up. Somewhat deflated, Duke pulled his practice jersey out of the closet to add to his bag, glancing at the clock.

The door wrenched open behind him and a small figure fell against it, breathing heavily. '_What the hell is this?'_ The guy was wearing full school uniform, a policy that was 'recommended' by administration for today and only followed by freshmen and geeks. The guy made several attempts at a greeting while Duke tried to determine exactly what the hell he was doing here. '_Please, please, please don't tell that this is…'_

"You must be my roommates." '_Oh God. I have enough problems right now; this guy is the last thing I need.'_ He couldn't be too surprised, Gold had hinted as much. Duke had to laugh in spite of himself. It was official: the universe hated him. Andrew and Toby were both staring, but thankfully keeping their comments to themselves for the time being (Duke knew, though,_that_ probably wouldn't last very long). Normally his first reaction would be similar, but he couldn't help feel sorry for this little guy, who was so clearly out of his league. They didn't have to like each other, but it would make both their lives easier if he were civil in close quarters.

"What's your name?"

"Sebastian Hastings." The tone annoyed Duke just a bit, as though Sebastian thought it should have been obvious. '_Whatever'._ His mother was in Junior League, he'd introduced himself to such people before. What he wasn't less prepared to deal with was the fact that Sebastian turned to be a_hugger._ That was going to be awkward. '_No wonder Gold seemed so excited. They'll get along great.'_ Duke noticed Andrew and Toby looking on, horrorstruck, and decided to share the moment. Maybe they'd get hugged too. And hopefully keep their mouths shut to everyone else.

"This is Andrew and Toby, they live next door." '_Please feel free to spend as much time as possible over there. Or anywhere but here.' _The two made a few smartass remarks, but Sebastian either didn't realize it or felt that goading them on was a bad idea.

"I…skipped a couple grades. I'm brilliant. Shh!" Duke wasn't impressed, and was even less so as Sebastian proceeded to fall off his mattress. '_You've got to be kidding me. I've been stuck with a guy who might as well be a freshman. How the hell am I supposed to deal with this?'_

"Do you know when soccer tryouts are?" If they had met any other way, or Sebastian had come across as any less twitchy, the question might have convinced Duke that they would get to be friends. But since that wasn't the case, it just made him dread the upcoming meeting all the more.

"Noon." '_Like I could forget.'_ But why would this kid care? '_This has to be a joke, Malcolm trying to get revenge on me. There's no way…' _"You play?" '_Please, tell me his dream is to be the statistician.'_

"Center forward. You know it, bro." Dinklage rarely ever cut anyone who wanted to play, but Duke was pretty sure that even if Sebastian tried out he would never actually see game time. Sebastian, however, seemed to misinterpret his silence as an invitation to keep talking. "So, you play the beautiful game? Bro? Brothers? …Brethren?"

'_No, I just keep the posters up for the hell of it.'_ Duke could help but chuckle again and noticed Toby struggling not to laugh. This guy was just short of inept. Probably someone who read a lot of books about soccer and thought playing it was the same thing. He recognized that he was no amazing conversationalist, but this was just sad. Maybe it would be worth keeping him around for amusement sake. "Yeah, I'm a striker. Andrew and Toby are halfbacks." '_You do know what those positions are, right?'_ Duke couldn't even look at the other two as he said it; Andrew was steadfastly ignoring the whole scene, and Toby had lost the battle with laughter, pulling his head down to avoid being _too_insulting.

It didn't matter much for now; in fifteen minutes they could all leave, and probably wouldn't need to speak to Sebastian for several hours. '_He can't be all that bad…maybe once he gets used to being here, he'll be a little less…weird." _Duke's attention was suddenly caught by a patch of bright color in Sebastian's boots. Surely there was an explanation for this. Duke tried to be understanding, but there was no way…_those things_...could go without mention

"Ok…why do you have tampons in your boot?" Lo and behold, Duke had found a topic fascinating enough to pull Andrew and Toby away from their game. He made a note to make fun of them for it later. Sebastian gave some sort of explanation involving nosebleeds, suddenly more confident than he'd been a few minutes previously. Which was just creepy. Duke could tell that the other two, like him, were struggling to determine how to handle this. It became too much for all of them when Sebastian stood straight faced with half a tampon hanging down out of his nose. _'__Where did they find this guy? He'd better pick that shit up off the floor.'_

"Oh my God, your roommate's a freak!" Andrew, with his usual tact, summed up the situation nicely. Thankfully, Duke was spared having to make a response. He quickly elbowed the other two, nodding at the clock.

"We gotta get going. We'll, uh…see you out there."

Sebastian nodded eagerly, "At noon! I'll be there, brothers!" Andrew walked out with a muttered "Freak!" and Toby quickly followed, still shaking with laughter. Determined not be left alone with the new roomie, Duke pulled on his shirt, grabbed his duffle, and dashed for the door after them.

* * *

Dinklage was nowhere in sight when the three boys entered the locker room, much to Duke's relief. They hadn't been the first to arrive (that would be lame) but were early enough to show dedication. Nods and quiet greetings were exchanged as more players filed in; some offering Duke an extra word or two of congratulations. He knew he'd be expected to address them before the coaching staff arrived, and though the thought never troubled him before, he suddenly wished they could just get out on the pitch. What did one say to create greatness?

When all the guys had arrived, Duke stood up. They were in various states of dress, chattering aimlessly- someone had hidden Allgood's practice jersey, a few predictions at how many games they would win, early impressions of the potential newbies- but all stopped to look at him. He cleared his throat, trying to stall for precious seconds as he grappled with nerves. He had known most of these guys for years. Had been to this season-starting meeting twice before, and had always been inspired by speeches of previous captains, including that of his former best friend.

___Last spring at Illyria _

___ We had been teammates and roommates since my first day at Illyria, and the end of last year had felt like the end of everything. Rob's time as captain had gotten us closer to the championship than any team in last six years. He had shown our team unrelenting faith, and even after we lost he kept spirits high all spring by proclaiming how great we'd be the following season. I had always thought he was a stand up guy, someone I could trust. Rob doled out advice on being captain without hesitation, and listened to me worry over the summer without giving me grief._

_"__I'm not like you, man. I'm not good at inspiring people. I've been on the same field as most of them for three years, and now suddenly I need to have some sort of great insight. What the hell am I supposed to say?"_

___Rob laughed. "Hell if I know. I usually watched a movie like '_Gladiator'_then copped a speech from that. So you're not the touchy-feely type. You have other strengths. You're…stoic. You'll think of something." _

"So here we are," he began, "You guys all know me. I don't make big speeches. I think actions speak louder than words. So I'm not going to talk about winning. I'm not going to talk about winning the game against Cornwall, winning the state title, or winning anything. Nobody is going to talk about any of that. This season, we're going to _do_ it. We achieved a lot last year. We went to the state championship game. I don't want to hear about it. The senior class is undefeated against Cornwall. I don't care. Until we – this team, this year –_do it_, we don't have time to waste talking. I'm going to give you guys everything I have on the _field_."

Several of the others were nodding in agreement, and nobody was looking at him like he was crazy, so all in all Duke felt like his first speech was a success. It gave him a rush. That feeling didn't last long, as Dinklage and the assistant staff walked in right after he was done. Duke had a strong suspicion the coach been listening in and waiting for him to finish. He couldn't help but be curious what Dinklage thought of it, but he'd rather run laps till doomsday than ask in front of everyone. Instead, he leaned against the wall and tried to look focused.

"Alright ladies, I hope you have put your summer off to good use. Last year, most of you were good enough to have significant playing time. Some of you might even think that having to come back for tryouts is unfair. That means absolutely nothing to me right now. Here in Illyria, you don't get your spot handed to you. If you don't pass muster today, you'll find yourself on the bench. We've got a good bunch going out for the team today, and you had better give me everything you've got."

_'__He must not have seen Sebastian yet'_. Duke chided himself at the thought. It was possible that Sebastian could be a decent player. _'__In the same way that it's technically possible Gold and Dinklage could be having a secret love affair.'_

"If you haven't had a physical yet, make sure you see Coach Rodriguez or Coach Stuart today. If you were on the injury list last spring, or did anything stupid to yourself over the summer- Cohen, that means you- talk to the trainer before you set foot out of this room. Otherwise, I'd suggest the lot of you go warm up. I'll be waiting for you on the pitch in fifteen minutes."

Duke lingered for a moment as most of the other guys filed out, hoping that Dinklage might give him some direction. He caught the coach's eye just as he reached the door, and once again, Dinklage seemed to read his thoughts. "Not bad," he tilted his head and shrugged just a bit, "but not great."

* * *

All veteran players knew that 'I'll be waiting for you' really meant 'you'd better be waiting for me'. The newbies, to their credit, were pretty quick on the uptake. Duke never tired of the awed look on their faces when the team lined up in brand new practice dress. He'd been there once as a freshmen too; determined to be a part of the elite-looking line.

Sebastian was easily recognizable. He was the only guy Duke had ever seen wear such heavy sweats to go outside in August. Dinklage ran his traditional, disparaging review of the hopefuls and wasted no time in declaring Sebastian to be on the skins scrimmage team. _'__Probably trying to keep the kid from getting heatstroke'_. Almost immediately, though, Sebastian protested. Duke and Andrew shared a look over Toby's head, not daring to move too much. It was hard to tell if Sebastian was being serious or just an exceptionally deadpan smartass. Dinklage seemed to have to same issue, but let it go with only mild comment. Duke made a note of it though; newbies who tried to talk back to the coach were in for a hard time.

The drills were familiar and welcome for Duke, and he could tell most of the others felt the same way. It was no worse than most practices. Still, with Dinklage's disappointment ringing in his ears, he threw himself into each activity with abandon. _'__Maybe he's looking for greatness by example.'_

He didn't really want to admit it, but Sebastian wasn't terrible. He lacked all kinds of polish, and stamina was definitely an issue, but Duke had seen worse at tryouts. When Dinklage had the assistants begin assigning menial exercises- sit-ups, jumping-jacks, push-ups- he knew they were near the end. It bothered him, though, when he noticed that Sebastian had given up. Even if he'd had a superior showing beforehand, that type of thing would make him second string for sure.

"Orsino!" Duke stopped mid sit-up and turned his head. "Get over here."

"Coach?" Dinklage and two of the assistants stood in a small group. They took a step back to make room for him.

"What's your feeling?"

"Coach? I'm not sure…" Duke felt puzzled. _'Did Dinklage not expect me to hack it?'_

"Tell me what you've noticed." The coach impatiently continued, "You've been out there playing for three hours. Are you going to tell me you have absolutely no opinion on anything?"

It was like a light bulb went off in Duke's head. 'Duh'. "Oh. Uh…Donner's quick, but timid. Potentsky is…enthusiastic. Haimes is probably the best of the new guys."

"Better than Feldman?"

Tough question. Feldman, as a freshman, had started the final four games of last season. He didn't look as sharp today. Still, Duke wasn't going to throw him under the bus. "No way."

Dinklage raised an eyebrow at his vehemence, but didn't follow up. "How about Hastings?"

Duke cringed. He really didn't want to be the reason his roommate didn't make the cut. Of course, he also didn't want to be the reason his team was sub-standard. In the end, there wasn't really a choice._ '__Hastings brought it on himself.'_

"Solid skill set, but he doesn't finish well. Gives up." That appeared to satisfy Dinklage, who promptly sent him back to finish push-ups with the team.

As the group gathered around, Duke wasn't surprised to hear that the first-string was all returning players. Talented freshmen could certainly earn their place, but this year's existing team had been especially strong. Dinklage made a special point of calling out Sebastian for second string. While most of the new players didn't understand, everyone else saw it for what it was: a message. Quitters got nowhere on this team.

Duke still wasn't sure how he felt about tryouts as he walked into the shower. The coaches probably held the same opinions he did, and he doubted there was a lot he could have said that would have made a difference either way. But it still felt like a lot more weight on his shoulders than he had anticipated.

The obnoxious jabbering behind him wasn't helping matters.

"I'm telling you! I dated this chick from Cornwall and, damn, did she know how to-" Duke turned to find Sanger and Ewing, two sophomores, absorbed in a loud, graphic conversation about a very flexible sounding girl. The entire topic didn't sit well with him on any level.

"Shut it, both of you." Everyone within earshot stopped to look at him. Ewing looked particularly confused.

"Duke, what gives? We were just…"

"I know. And it stops now." He wasn't sure where this was coming from. Clearly the whole thing with Olivia over the summer had affected him more than he thought. "What if it were someone else talking that kind of shit about your sister or your girlfriend?" Ewing had a sister two years his junior, Duke knew the remark would hit home. To lighten the suddenly heavy mood, he added "And seriously, you're bragging about a girl from Cornwall?" Laughter all around. "Everyone make a note: the first rule about Cornwall is we don't talk about Cornwall."

* * *

Sebastian was nowhere to be seen after everyone had re-dressed and Duke couldn't say he was sorry about it. He was already pretty sure he would spend a good potion of his time avoiding his room from now on. It wasn't as though he didn't have other things to do, anyway. Now that the newbies had their official spots on the team, it was time to roll out the welcome wagon. He grinned as the new second stringers wearily drifted out of the locker room, oblivious to the knowing looks being passed behind them. Tomorrow, they would be considered part of the team regardless of how well they played. Tonight, they would have to earn the privilege.

A few hours later, Duke, Toby and Andrew sat at a table in the cafeteria with Eddie, finalizing plans for their 'welcome party'. Duke had dispatched a few others to pick up the essentials and check on room numbers, leaving the three of them to handle what remained.

"So, Leslie's bringing the soundtrack and Grillo's got the oatmeal covered." Toby look gleeful; he always got a sick amount of satisfaction at pelting their new 'inductees'.

"Some of my guys will create enough trouble on the east quad to call Malcolm out of the building if you'll do the same for us in the spring again." Eddie added, and Andrew nodded in response. This arrangement had been settled on the year before last. Andrew played two years of lacrosse before concentrating on soccer, and had originally been able to talk a few friends into the job. It was a far lesser offense to be busted for 'raucous behavior after curfew' than for hazing, and both teams quickly picked up on it. "And man, what the hell are you doing to that muffin?" Duke shook his head. These were the guys he depended on?

"So what's left? Wake-up call?" Duke disliked that part the most; oatmeal was mixed in the locker room, but waking up the newbies required hauling buckets of other disgusting stuff around with them. He wouldn't have to do that this year, thank God, but there was one thing that worried him about it. "Make sure whatever we get Hastings with won't make my life miserable. Nothing that will smell, crawl, or do anything else foul."

Andrew grinned, and Duke could practically see the evil thoughts form. "Aw, I was hoping to get him with the spiders."

"Hell no."

"Sour milk?"

"No."

"Pudding?"

"No!"

"So what would you suggest?"

"Just make it easy. I don't know, douse him with water. It'll do the job and nothing in my room will make me nauseous for the next week."

"Fine. But he had better appreciate the consideration he's getting. I think-"

"Hey dudes! Mind if I join?" Sebastian helped himself to an empty chair without hesitation. Eddie, noticing that the topic of conversation was now present, mumbled an excuse under his breath and took off. "Thanks!" The three boys shared a glance, determined not to start any conversation that might make Sebastian think he was welcome. Despite the short time since they had met, Duke wasn't surprised when Sebastian kept talking.

"So those soccer tryouts were bogus, huh? I mean second string, c'mon that's ridiculous! Am I right? Am I right?" Duke remained impassive, uncertain if Sebastian was trying to make a statement directly to him. It didn't really bother him if he was, but he was having serious concerns about the guy's character._ '__What is this kid on? Does he not _remember _the last six hours? Just shut up already!'_ As though he heard the mental command, Sebastian fell silent. But not for long.

"So, the game against Cornwall, that should be interesting huh?" Ugh. Duke was rapidly becoming convinced that Sebastian was trying to piss him off. Still, there was a slim possibility that this trespass was just because he was new, and probably not too familiar with their policy not to mention Cornwall before the game itself.

"And why," He'd get one more chance, but if he made any assumptions about winning the game, he was going to get his ass kicked. "Would that be interesting?"

"Well, my sister goes there and she used to date that tool, Justin Drayton." The three other boys immediately burst into laughter, knowing what was coming next. Trespass forgiven. Re-hashing the humiliation of Drayton was always permissible, especially to new guys.

Duke grinned at the memory. "I know him; I made him cry once during a game." It was practically a legend. He enjoyed thinking of it and did so often. The incident must have been memorable to the Cornwall side too, because Sebastian clearly knew of it. Sebastian's sister must have been just as strange as he was to even consider dating the guy. Probably Cornwall's version of Eunice. It didn't matter anyway, Duke was steering clear of all that sort of drama.

"Is your sister hot?" The chuckles died as Duke slid a glare at Toby, who grinned._ '__Shut up. There will be no more talk of _anyone's _sister. And I'm going to beat the shit out of you for that later.'_

The question seemed to throw Sebastian a bit too. "Uhhh…I guess…so. She's got a great personality." Andrew and Toby heard 'personality' and were immediately disappointed, but Duke just shrugged. He wasn't concerned about it, but was pretty sure Sebastian was lying. For one thing, from what little he knew about Drayton, the guy wouldn't be caught dead with a total dog. And two, Duke figured if he had a hot sister, he wouldn't say anything might encourage these guys to think about her either. Sebastian trying to shelter his sister was….respectable.

And speaking of hot… "Incoming." Duke strained to get a better look.

Olivia.

She was talking leaning in the service window some distance off, so Duke couldn't see her face. It didn't really bother him since….other equally interesting assets were on display. The skirt she was wearing was much more flattering than the khaki uniform, and Duke was content to indulge himself in the picture without worrying that she might catch him staring.

"Whoo! Check out the bootie on that blondie!"

"Uh-oh..." Years of dealing with over-protective instincts on subject of Olivia had conditioned most of the soccer team to avoid making comments about her. Caught off guard by Sebastian's remark, Duke's response was less threatening than it might have been.

"Don't talk about her that way."_'__Who does this guy think he is?' _

"Oh? Is that your ___girl_friend?" No one at the table could know exactly how close Sebastian came to getting pounded for this response, since Toby chose that moment to transfer the whole of Duke's annoyance onto him.

"Ha! He wishes." All Duke could do was level another glare. _'__There are _no words _to describe how hard I'm going to beat the shit out of him later.'_ Toby clearly picked up on the thought, and his amusement died instantly. Andrew attempted to smooth things over with the Reader's Digest version of the summer breakup, but Duke tuned him out. _'__There's got to be a way to convince her that I'm not just a jock.' _

"In man words, it's time to pounce!"

"Absolutely." The two friends pointedly ignored Duke as they spoke, but he was focused elsewhere and failed to get the hint. They realized why as a shadow crossed the table. Malcolm. Still in uniform, as though it was especially impressive, he sauntered over to Olivia. Duke crushed his straw in his hand. Even just the sight was enough to make him want to chuck an apple at the obnoxious idiot.

"I hate that guy." Major understatement, but he really couldn't afford to start anything right now.

"Looks like you got some competition." Malcolm was clearly mocking him, trying to provoke him into looking like a further jerk in Olivia's eyes, and Duke wasn't going to fall for it.

"It's just Malcolm." Most of his issues with Malcolm had little to do with competing for Olivia's attention. It was pretty clear to everyone but Malcolm that Olivia would rather be anywhere else. Still, the way he was trying to cozy up to her gave Duke to urge to hit him.

"She looks so sad; it's heartbreaking." The other three boys froze. Duke began seriously considering the possibility that Sebastian was bi-polar. It was the only explanation he could think of that would account for the total one-eighty from 'blondie with a bootie' to 'heartbreaking' in less than three minutes. In what was clearly now his habit, Sebastian continued to blather on about his last relationship despite a distinct lack of interest. 'Give me a break. How sappy is he?' While he was lost in his own world of happy bunnies or whatever, the boys shared a glance and Duke gave a nod toward to exit. He swiped Sebastian's bottle as he stood, leaving his own apple by way of payment. _'__He doesn't need anymore caffeine anyway.' _

The bottle gave a far more satisfying thud against Malcolm's head on the way out than the apple would have. Olivia was nice enough to pretend not to notice anything.

* * *

Part two should be out soon. Thank you for sticking with me!


	2. This Year's Soccer Newbies

Huge thank-you's to everyone who was kind enough to review. It's wonderful to hear that people are enjoying this! I was a little nervous posting this since the movie is a few years old now, but the response has been amazing. Please continue letting me know your thoughts and questions!

This part was a little tougher sledding- some of the "guy" conversations gave me a lot of grief. I hope it reads well. The length got away from me bit- I blame the hazing scene, which took on a life of its own after I felt the need to account for all the props shown in the bit we got to see. For those playing along at home, try and see if you can spot them in the movie;-) I really do try to keep as much detail from the movie as possible, along with the occasional obscure reference to the original Twelfth Night for my own amusement. (Tell the truth! Who recognized Toby hitting Andrew up for money in the last chapter? ;-) 

Some things I didn't mention last time and should have: I'm using some information that was in the character profiles on the movie website that I don't believe was really shown on screen, mostly the fact that Paul has already graduated from Cornwall and Malcolm is student council VP (though I pretty much already stated that, so its useless at this point;-). I also went ahead and set this in Stratford, Connecticut. There are several Stratfords across the country, and I know the intention of the film was to be set just about anywhere, but Connecticut makes sense on several levels. I was _this _close to making it Stratford, Wisconsin, what with the reference to UM and all the cheese jokes, but CT won in the end because I can set other things around it more easily. Feel free to imagine it elsewhere if you feel strongly about it.

On a less technical note, please be advised that this chapter contains references to underage drinking and other reprehensible behaviors. Hazing is illegal in most places, so don't do it (you may notice I cleverly avoided using the word in this chapter). Don't pull fire alarms for fun. Don't cut class. Don't lie to your mother. Wear sunscreen and remember to floss;-) 

In the end, there's nothing in here that's all that much worse that what was in the movie. Which, by the way, I don't own. Neither do I own the play, Gilbert & Sullivan's HMS Pinafore, or any other names, brands, nor any trademarks mentioned. Let the show begin!

Play On

Chapter 2

_No points are given for lacerations, contusions, or abrasions, but then no points are deducted, either. Kicking is very important in football. In fact, some of the more enthusiastic players even kick the ball, occasionally._ -Alfred Hitchcock

_Men kick friendship around like a football, but it doesn't seem to crack. Women treat it like glass and it goes to pieces._ - Anne Lindbergh

It was just past midnight, and the seniors of the Illyria soccer team were in a good mood. They had congregated in Andrew and Toby's room to wait out their newbies, fielding calls from underclassmen who had the less pleasant duties related to tonight's initiation. 

In-between a round robin tournament on the Xbox, the boys liberally pulled cans off two six-packs hidden under Andrew's bed and generally tried to out-bullshit each other telling stories of summer activities. Normally this 'pre-initiation meeting' would be hosted by Duke, but since his roommate was one of the newbies in question, moving next door seemed like a better option. 

"You know Duke, it must suck to be you." Cohen might have had one too many. "Kicked out of your own room _twice_ in a row for the senior pre-party. That's gotta be a record." _'Of course he would bring that up. Can't I get a break?' _It was well known that Duke had been looking forward to this party even more than most; Rob had made a good natured point of keeping him out of their room the year before for the same event. 

Of course, it wasn't as though anyone but the seniors had time to lounge around. Initiation may begin and end in one night, but seniority lasted a lifetime. Sophomores were usually runners, checking everywhere to make sure all was clear and quiet before wake-ups began. Juniors handled materials- hauling the various goodies for waking up sleeping inductees, oatmeal mix, and any extras decided on in a given season. The occasional switch up varied by the number of guys in a year and who may have been on the team longer, but seniors always had the time to themselves. 

"I was not kicked out. I left. It's…different." He got a snort in response. "Shut the hell up." 

"I quote: 'We can all fight when we're drunk.' That part doesn't come till later, in case you forgot, _Cohen_. Let's keep in mind the reason we're all here: to make tonight hell for the freshmen, not each other." Bentley, the future diplomat, at work. 

"They're not all freshmen. Shuler's a soph, and Hastings is a senior." Cohen suddenly looked bewildered, "Does that mean he should've been invited to this?"

"No!" "No way." "Hell no." Andrew didn't respond and everyone looked to him to see why. He was talking in a low tone on his cell, but paused to give them a look that clearly communicated his feelings: 'Are you effing crazy?'

Andrew closed his phone and addressed the group. "That was Eddie; the lacrosse team is standing by for our cue…I think we should all take a moment to enjoy this feeling. Life is good." He held up his can in a toast, and the others followed suit, chuckling. "This is our last year together. An entire season of unblemished possibility stretches before us. After four years, we've made it to the top. To the black and red!"

The speech was overly-sentimental, cheesy, and all other things they hated. Still, everyone gamely replied.

"Black and red!" 

Duke finished off his drink with a grin. It wasn't his style, but he had to admit there was something to that. And though he hated to admit it, Andrew had a point. These would be memorable times, he was sure. He had good teammates and good friends. It was more than a lot of people had in their entire lives. 

In fact, he was feeling so charitable that he was willing to forgo Toby's impending ass-kicking and instead share what was sure to be much appreciated information with the group.

"So, Toby, why do you keep Eunice's yearbook picture in your sock drawer?" He grinned unrepentantly, as Cohen and Bentley dove to see if it was really there. Toby was less amused, but took the ribbing. "Alright, alright. I'll man up." A pointed look to Duke, "I think she's got something goin' on there." Barking laughter resounded in the room. Andrew fell off his bed to the floor (making an obscene Bates Motel reference between pants of laughter), and Cohen was choking on his newest beverage. Duke was laughing to hard to make a comment or even breathe properly, but was clearly content with his revenge. 

The phone rang several times before anyone heard it, and even then the only person not laughing too hard to answer was Toby. 

"Sanger said Donner and Haimes are sleeping like babies." He relayed, "But according to Feldman, lights only went out Shuler's room a few minutes ago." Donner and Haimes were roommates, so that made things slightly easier. 

Duke nodded. "Have Feldman sit on Shuler for a few. Sanger and Molen need to check on Potentsky. Then we get started."

* * *

Anxious to get things moving, Duke volunteered to check the bathroom just after one. If it were empty, they could barricade the door and start bringing stuff in. He took a towel and shoved his cell phone and ski mask into one of Toby's travel bags; if anyone were still in there (which wasn't totally uncommon), it'd look authentic enough. If not, he could call with the all clear. As he walked through the hall, he quickly checked over his shoulder. Sebastian had the door to the room shut and Duke couldn't tell if the lights were out. He shrugged; he_could _open the door himself and check on Hastings, or they could send a sophomore to check the window from outside. Malcolm's door was shut too, but that was less important. Eddie and crew would have him bolting to the other side of campus before the noise from the showers was a concern. 

He was amused, for lack of a better term, to find both previously mentioned parties in the bathroom. Before he even realized it, his towel was snapping at the back of Malcolm's head. It must have been an unusually good shot, since he squeaked like a girl and collapsed to the floor. Duke couldn't help the smug grin. If only they knew how tempting it was to pull out the cell phone and take a picture! 

He gave his best effort at ignoring Sebastian, but true to form, the smaller boy had to fill the silence with nonsense. It was just as awkward of a conversation as always, but thankfully shorter than most. Knowing that Sebastian would get his later that night went a long way towards raising his tolerance for the guy, too, and he couldn't help a smile. 

But Sebastian was holding his chest stiffly and clearly anxious to leave. Well, Duke couldn't blame him. He didn't really want to be in the bathroom with Malcolm's acne either. As he neared the door, Duke noticed a long strip of Ace bandage in the vacated sink. Had Sebastian left it?

"Hey, you forgot…this." What exactly was it? He wasn't going to call the guy out in front of Malcolm, especially since he wasn't really sure what was going on. It could be on old thing; maybe he didn't need or want the bandage anymore. But if it was some kind of injury, Sebastian shouldn't have to totally ignore it and go without. It could also be minor; bruises from tryouts or working out or just falling down, which the kid seemed to do a lot. But he couldn't imagine that any kind of run-of-the-mill hit or bruise would require Sebastian to grab hold of his chest as he had. 

Duke had cracked two ribs in a playoff game two years back. He knew the result could hurt like hell, even when just breathing, and there was little to do for it. If Sebastian had indeed a similar injury, he must have been in a world of pain this afternoon. Dinklage probably wouldn't have even let him try out in such a condition if he had suspected. Of course, it could have happened sometime during the trials, or even earlier this evening. Except…

_"Pardon me, sir, I have to be a shirt."_

Duke felt his stomach drop. Could it really have been so obvious? _'And then he bolted from the locker room and never came back. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I wish I'd never come in here. And I still don't really know anything. Hell, maybe he's planning to fake an injury to excuse his crappy showing earlier. He hasn't really shown a lot of integrity so far. If he made it through tryouts, and wants to be on the team…'_

If he was hurt, then the little guy had grit. Tonight probably wouldn't even faze him. Tomorrow, Duke would give him the benefit of the doubt and convince him to check in with the trainer. 

He pretended to comb through his hair as Malcolm stepped under a shower. Unpleasant as it might be, he really did need to wait until the bathroom to be empty. His nerve was seriously tested, however, when a high-pitched voice was carried over the sound of water.

"…_and I polished up the handle of the big front door/ I polished up that handle so carefully/ That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navy_…"

Malcolm's singing voice was too much. Duke was out of the room before the echo faded.

As he re-entered the bedroom, a Grand Theft Auto stripper had his teammates riveted back to their game. _'Figures. They're watching Xbox porn and I get Malcolm in the shower. I can't get a break.'_ "Malcolm's still in there, but things should be clear in a few minutes."

Bentley spoke up, but his eyes didn't leave the screen. "Potentsky's snoring so loud they could hear it outside. And Feldman went by your room a few minutes ago. The lights just went out. Grillo's ready to bring the mix in now. Allgood's got the buckets and gloves."

"We may have a problem with Hastings." Duke knew it'd be up to him to keep anything seriously bad from happening to Sebastian. "There's a chance he's nursing an injury. Let's try not to do anything to him that'll get us expelled. Or arrested." 

Cohen grinned. He had sprained an ankle only hours before their own freshmen initiation, and the then-team had compensated by pulling him out of bed and carrying him around blindfolded for the entire night. "Don't worry; we'll make sure he gets the star treatment. Are you still being a whiney-priss about waking him up with anything good?" 

"_Yes._ _No_bugs." Just the thought of those things was enough to make Duke squirm. 

"Fine. We've got water for him. We think Haimes should probably get tapped with the crawlies. You have any other preferences?"

"That's fine. Let's call everyone else and get going."

* * *

The whole night was a special tradition for soccer players at Illyria. Its origins had been long lost in the whirligig of time, yet in an era of litigation and political correctness, it remained. Aside from the actual events for the new members, there was handful of other important moments. The seniors, of course, had their own party. Other classes had traditionally assigned tasks. And though there was no formality or ritual to it, the team had taken to meeting together in the locker room before grabbing up the newbies. 

They now stood in the locker room under the stadium, lights on low, pulling on ski masks and wrapping sheets. It wasn't the most inconspicuous spot to meet, especially since they'd be here later in the night, but it was a convenient place to store everything they needed. They would march back to the senior dorms from here, collecting their inductees as they went. 

Duke pulled a gold key out of the duffle in his locker and gave a nod to Toby. Generations of Illyrian athletes had gradually established an otherwise forgotten storage room as a repository for more 'unofficial' equipment. A select few kept the keys, and these were handed down from year to year with the care of great heirlooms. No one wanted to be the captain that had to ask administration to bust it open. It didn't take too long find what he needed there: the staff leaning in a corner, and three boxes clearly labeled "Athletic Donation Receipts, 1987, 1988, 1989" (the football team, he knew, used the ones marked "Sex Ed. Waivers" that were always ominously stained at the bottom). Inside the first two lay the capstone of their costumes: the gold laurel wreaths. 

Duke and Toby, the only four year starters, opened the last box. On top, carefully packed from the year before, was a red cape and oversized headpiece. Beneath them, a book and ball. Like the wreaths, the cape and Viking-esque hat were just part of the costumes; another way to separate out the newbies and inspire respect. The other two items, though, had an actual purpose. There were certainly enough other ones around, but they always used the same soccer ball for initiation. It had been signed by every captain for at least the past ten years, and Duke liked to think that it would continue to be for at least the next ten. He wasted no time in adding his own- Toby had a Sharpie ready- but couldn't help feel his veins burn as he stared at Rob's signature from a year ago. He signed the opposite side. 

Toby picked up the last thing in the box. It was thick brown book, without title or markings on its cover. Each page was blank, save for two columns of lines, and the book had already been filled halfway through. As Toby idly turned pages to find a blank one, the names of fifty years of soccer players flashed past. Tidy, sloppy, print, cursive. Every man who once stood where they were standing had imprinted his handwriting, himself, into its history. Tonight they would add five more. The only other writing in the book was on the first page. Not quire an oath, but a reminder of what it meant to have your name there, to endure tonight and be part of the team.

_It is not the critic who counts, _

_not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles_

_or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. _

_The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, _

_whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, _

_who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again _

_because there is no effort without error and shortcomings, _

_who knows the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, _

_who at the best knows in the end the high achievement of triumph and who at worst, _

_if he fails while daring greatly, knows his place shall never be _

_with those timid and cold souls who know neither victory nor defeat. _

_ -_Theodore Roosevelt

The wreaths were passed around with much excitement, especially for the sophomores who had never participated on this end before. Duke, however, couldn't help but feel slightly ridiculous. He made an intimidating figure, he knew, and the newbies wouldn't know what hit them. Still, he couldn't help but wish it were something a little more…dignified.

The plan was launched as soon as everyone was dressed. Haimes, Donner, and Potentsky all lived on the same floor of the freshman building, so they came first. A smaller group would rouse Shuler. Hastings, given his special circumstances, came last. A handful of masked team members stood outside the house, ready to signal if any problems were spotted. Duke and most of the others dashed inside and made quick work of the lock on Haimes and Donner's door. He nodded at the two hauling buckets behind him, silently counting down from three with a hand. _'Wouldn't be any fun if they didn't get it together.'_

"AAAAAUgh!" "Jesus Christ! What the hell?" Donner found himself sputtering to the floor, tangled in sheets under the tide of outdated milk and trying to stand. Haimes, conversely, leaped three feet in a vain attempt to dislodge the litany of worms and bugs on him. Neither was successful at anything other than amusing their onlookers. 

"Time to have some fun." Donner actually whimpered in response. Ha! Duke loved this part. _Loved _it. Normally he didn't make such displays, but the ski mask and darkness were empowering. He enjoyed getting a little crazy on behalf of the team. It was all in good fun. "Blindfold them." The two hapless freshmen were immediately surrounded, then frog-marched to the door, Haimes repeating his refrain of "The hell, man. The hell!" every few seconds. Potentsky's room went much the same way. The poor guy's roommate was more than a little put out at being woken up, but quickly silenced by Andrew's threat to be brought along. They had a schedule to keep. 

A faint ruckus could be heard coming from the far side of campus as they emerged, and Duke smiled beneath his mask. Eddie did nice work. 

"Take them on in," he told the players securing their quarry, "Entertain them till we get there." It didn't mean anything special, but it was sure to put fear in the hearts of the newbies who'd be waiting for God-knows-what to happen to them. 

Duke and half a dozen others weaved their way to Shuler's room, who received similar treatment. He wouldn't be quite as shocked as most- his roommate was on the basketball team, and probably gave him the heads up- so Duke didn't feel too bad taking a slightly rougher track. Toby and Andrew gruffly grabbed him out of bed straightaway, and then Duke unceremoniously dumped the bucket over his head. He couldn't see clearly what was in it, but it smelled _terrible_. _'Meh…he's heading for the showers anyway.'_ Wicked grins spread around as Shuler let loose a string a colorful epithets from behind the blindfold. Four down, one to go. 

They approached the senior building cautiously, making sure that Malcolm was indeed gone. Two members of the group spirited Shuler off to the bathroom with his fellows, while the rest continued on to room 234. Duke used his room key this time (they tried to avoid lock-picking unless it was necessary), and they filed in. At first he thought Sebastian was awake already; he was rolling around in his bed, making some sort of noise of despair. A moment's inspection proved that he was still asleep. _'Not for long.'_

He shifted two men on each side of the bed, and gave Andrew the signal to hit him with the bucket. "Rise and Shine." _'It just gets better every time…'_ Sebastian was hoisted up unceremoniously, but seemed clueless as to what was going on. He gave some sort of weak scream of protest, but intelligently shut up when the reached the hall. 

"You scream like a girl, twiglet." Andrew just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

Sebastian seemed to recognize the insult, and stopped struggling. When they reached the showers, he was quickly dropped next to the others, all huddled in the middle and stripped of the blindfolds. With the lights out, flashlights all around the outside of the room, and boisterous jeering, the atmosphere was nothing short of disturbing. 

"Welcome to _hell!_" That was the cue. Chaos erupted. Oatmeal and shouting came from all sides and the huddled mass in the center of the ring could find no quarter. There was only enough for the onslaught to last for a minute or so, but Duke was willing to bet (and in fact, knew from experience) that it felt like much, much longer. When the ammunition was gone, though, he called for attention once more. 

"Gentlemen!" This was nothing if not a civilized affair. "Let me present this year's soccer newbies!" One or two of them looked up, relieved. _'Oh, did you think the worst was over? Not a chance.'_

Toby stepped forward with the book. It was his custom to do everything in his power to freak out the new guys. Duke knew this year, especially, was no exception. "First, you must remove your clothes!" 

They used this bathroom with good reason. The echo was incredible. The chant came resounding in from every which-way, and the newbies didn't hesitate to comply. It wasn't usually one of the more difficult demands of initiation; most guys didn't have an issue getting out of the now-disgusting clothing, and accepted the realities of a locker room. 

In retrospect, Duke would admit that he should have kept a closer eye on Sebastian. The guy was already considered to be sort of shifty, and if anyone was going to screw them over, smart money was on him. But this didn't occur to anyone as Sebastian dropped to the floor and out of sight. He wouldn't have been the first to faint or relent to self-consciousness. 

He was, however, the first to pull the fire alarm. 

The sound of the alarm was possibly the only thing loud enough to overtake their shouts, and for a few seconds the two collided in a grating harmony. Then the sprinkler system kicked on, and everyone began to dash. Everything that had been carefully brought in had to be scooped up and taken with them. They probably had a minute, maybe two if the lacrosse team was on their game, before Malcolm or someone on staff busted them. And of course, their inductees had to be corralled. There was no time to dawdle. 

It was a mad rush to the exit. The alarm had automatically shut down the hallway lights, and thankfully only a few sleepy heads were popping out of some of the doors. They had just enough cover to make it outside and disappear. The fallback plan for a major disruption (usually being caught by someone, but suitable for fire alarms too) was the locker room back at the stadium. Part two of the night's events took place there anyway; if they could get out of sight of the dorms they should be alright. Duke, cursing his rather noticeable ensemble, began to direct their group in that direction. 

The newbies had no clue how to respond, and some seemed to think that this was part of the plan. Shoved rather ungracefully out of the building, and lacking clothes, they maintained their huddle (not _quite_ as tightly) and looked around for instruction. A quick headcount confirmed they were only missing one: Sebastian. There was nothing they could do about it now. 

Regardless of the ensuing mess behind them, the show must go on. The group had collected some distance off behind the neighboring building; they were safe enough from prying eyes. Duke gave Toby a quick shove, and growled for attention. Initiation was _not _going to fail under his watch, no matter what Sebastian Hastings thought about it. Toby picked up on the signal and continued where he had been interrupted.

"Now, you _run!_" It was a little relieving to have Sebastian missing, Duke realized, since this was the part that would most likely aggravate an injury. In the four years that he had been here, no one had ever been seriously hurt (if you don't count a blow to one's pride), and he really did not want to break the chain. 

The newbies, as always, seemed to need a touch more motivation to indulge in a little late night streaking. 

"Get along, little doggies!" Andrew, with a jubilant cry, led half a dozen team members behind them, waving inscribed paddles menacingly. Everyone else flanked the chase, helping to draw out the route that would eventually lead to the soccer field. Duke and Toby, having other assigned roles, were able to follow at a more leisurely pace.

"You notice that Hastings is gone?" Toby's voice was tight. He was pissed.

"Yeah. He ducked out of sight in the bathroom. It _had _to be him." Duke had been willing to cut him a break if he were hurt, but it was getting harder and harder to like Sebastian. How was he supposed to live with a guy who was willing to sell out the entire team to avoid a little mocking? _'Hell, he'd probably throw a game if the opponent promised not to insult him'. _

"We can't let that go unanswered." 

"I know; we'll come up with something good later." They still had future teammates to initiate, and to Duke's way of thinking, the ones who stayed took precedence over the one who didn't. 

Andrew and Bentley were directing sprints across the field when they arrived. The initiates scrambled back and forth, belting out off-key lyrics to whatever embarrassing songs Leslie could dig up on his CD player. Celine Dion and Olivia Newton-John were heavy favorites.

"Took you two long enough. You're missing out on all the fun." 

Duke shrugged and checked his watch. They would be fighting daylight soon if they weren't careful. The fire alarm had set them back a bit, so drills would have to get cut short. He jumped up on the bench nearest the stands, and held up the staff.

"Newbies! The time has come!" From their various spots on the field, the current players began hooting and moved to form more tidy lines. The two lines quickly bordered the locker room entrance: a gauntlet. 

Duke grinned again. It probably wouldn't be as bad as whatever the newbies were thinking of just now, but their faces were priceless. He took a deep breath and used his most ominous tone.

"_March._" 

Andrew was cackling madly, still swinging his paddle in the air. A few others did the same, and everyone else chimed in with taunts. Shuler had his game face on; he steadily started toward the dark corridor. Haimes followed, breathing deeply. Donner and Potentsky brought up the rear, both obviously terrified. They were expecting to be hit, it was clear. 

Probably not with silly string and cheese-whiz, but there it was. Everyone brandished their spray-item of choice, and wasted no time liberally coating the newbies. 

Haimes and Potentsky took it with good humor, accepting their fate to be sans-clothes and covered in foam and foodstuff remarkably well. Shuler remained impassive, moving through the lines with a stoicism that reminded Duke of himself years before. Donner still looked terrified; he was frenetically ducking and dodging streams of cheese in the air as though it were doing him any good. 

Duke and Toby followed them, carefully glaring at several twitchy (or perhaps just smartass) players, lest they should get any ideas about spraying them. The lines fell in behind them, closing off the hallway. The doors to the locker room were pulled open, and everyone stepped inside. The lights in here, as in the hallway, were off. The room was suddenly pitched into further blackness when all flashlights shut off. Only Duke and Toby, now standing behind the future team members, remained lit. Toby opened the book once more; Duke held up the pen as he spoke.

"Tonight you have proven your worth, proven that you can work for the team, defer to the team, and sacrifice for the team. If you sign tonight, then from now on, you'll get as much from the team as you give; everyone here is your brother-at-arms." They signed with silence reigning in the room, adding their names under last year's recruits. 

Then, like beacons, four head-high spots of light appeared in the room, one right after the other. The cast-off glow from each candle was just enough to point out the reason: to the right _Donner _flicked on the previously empty locker, _Potentsky_ on one further down, on the other side of the bench _Haimes _and _Shuler_ glittered. The respective players approached their new lockers with awe, examining the contents. Cleats, shorts, and practice jersey. Dinklage would have their official team jerseys before the game, but these got the point across. They were in the club. 

When the overheard lights came on, the ski masks and wreaths were gone. Player stared at player for the first time. A smattering of applause went around the room; everyone was in a good mood. Duke tossed towels to the new team members, "You can all go shower now. Be dressed and ready to leave in fifteen minutes." The new players would put on their practice uniforms, but everyone else had left their clothing here earlier. It was a considerably less conspicuous, and cleaner, group of young men that emerged from the locker room half an hour later. The marks of initiation- ball, book, and costume parts- had been carefully repacked and replaced. 

The seniors once again lead them out of the tunnel, part respect and part habit. They took off in a jog toward the edge of campus, leaving the newest members of the brood to follow. Anyone who knew the area could quickly tell where they were headed: the best pizza in walking distance- Cesario's. It didn't get a lot of patrons at four in the morning, largely because it was closed, but that didn't stop Duke from rapping on the door. One of the staff members opened the door almost immediately. 

"I was wondering where you were. The back room is open for you guys. You need to be out by eight and I don't know anything about you ever being here." The group marched through the restaurant, passed the familiar tables, and into the little used banquet room. The waiter who let them in disappeared, almost immediately after he did, the keg delivery arrived. The party was on. 

A few hours later, the drinks and stories were flowing quite freely. 

"Waitaminnit…you…you're tellin' me you dumped _bugs_ on me t'be _special_?" Haimes was enjoying himself. Or at least he had been, until Cohen mentioned that it was considered an honor to be hit with the "creepy-crawlies". 

"Hell yeah, man. Ask Duke, he knows." Cohen was going on Duke's list people who need their ass kicked. That was all there was to it. 

"Seniors pick the best of the newbies and give'im something' he won't forget." Cohen continued, "Our fearless leader here screamed like a…tiny…little…girl. You could hear it all down the hallway. Spider got in his shorts." Haimes, Leslie, and Allgood, standing nearby, laughed loudly. Duke failed to find the humor in story. He had abhorred any kind of spider or insect ever since. "I hate you all." 

* * *

The walk back to campus was at a much slower pace. A good portion of the group wasn't exactly steady, and though technically classes started this morning, nobody was anxious to get to them. In fact, Duke was certain that most of them, like himself, were going to ignore morning classes altogether and go to bed. Normally the thought was comforting, but now it presented a unique problem. If he wanted to go to bed, he'd have to go to his room. And it was likely that Sebastian would be there. And that meant he'd have to speak to or somehow deal with him.

A lot of ideas had been floated about how to reward Sebastian for his little act of defiance. There wasn't a solid plan yet, but Duke knew they'd think of something. Something much worse than what he would have had to face last night. 

"Ugh. It's way too bright out here." Andrew was just about walking with his eyes shut, squinting against the early morning, "I need sleep!" 

Toby looked put out at the statement. "Don't make me think about sleep. I have to go to English this morning and so do you. We've got Kreissmer first thing. He'll bitch to Dinklage if we skip and we have a team meeting today. Dinklage'll rip _everyone_ a new one because of us."

"Aw, shit. Who thought that class was a good idea?" 

"You did, when you swore up and down you'd never take advanced lit. And again after you failed last year's English exam."

Duke was caught between laughter and headache, but had the sense to realize that this was the solution to his most urgent problem. "Hey, let me crash in your room. It's not a good idea to put me in close quarters with Hastings just now." 

"Fine." Andrew agreed, "Cesario's after the meeting?" 

"Meet you then."

* * *

Four hours of sleep wasn't much, but it did Duke a world of good. By the time he forced himself out of bed, it was late enough in the day that Sebastian was surely in class, and he didn't foresee any problems returning to his own room. 

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that caused him to forget Sebastian wasn't the only one he was avoiding. As he entered his room, his phone rang and Duke, not thinking, answered it without checking the number.

"What?" Duke immediately regretted picking up at all when he heard the familiar huff on the other end.

"Is that how you were taught to say hello?" His mother. 

"Sorry mom. I…forgot." 

"To use a civilized greeting? What- never mind. Will I be getting a call from Headmaster Gold about why you aren't in class right now?" 

Duke had yet to ever attend the first day of classes. No one had complained yet. "Doubtful." 

A sigh in response. Apparently it was very taxing to have him as a son. "I was calling to tell you that I made an appointment for you to get your hair cut, since I know you won't do it yourself. Cristofer's at three o'clock. Don't be late. It was terribly difficult to get you in on such short notice. We're taking deb photos next Tuesday, make sure you're presentable."

"Why, exactly, do I have to be there? I'm not even going to that thing." 

"If we have to sub you in at the last minute, I'd like to have a photo insert ready for the program." So she was still trying to rope him into being an escort, "Of course, if spending half an hour of your precious time is just too much to ask for your poor mother…" His 'poor mother' was a master of the guilt trip. He knew he could agree now or later, but he would cave eventually. Duke flopped back into his bed with the phone, wishing he could be doing anything else. 

"Fine, I'll be there." There was a dial tone in response. He already knew this wasn't going to go well. He'd have to think of reason to blow it off in the next couple of days, for both their sakes. Duke cursed under his breath. If he was going to skip photos, it was probably a good idea to build up a little good will with the hair cut. 

His watch ticked impatiently at him. He had just enough time to go to his last class or shower and change. Decisions, decisions. He saw no reason to spoil a perfectly good record of absence by attending class, so the shower won inevitably won out. Forty minutes later, Duke was still trying to determine if he should even go; he would have to get in and out of Cristofer's in thirty minutes. Even then he'd have just enough time to get back for the team meeting at four. _'Wonder if Hastings will bother to show his face.'_

But the prospect of trying to explain to his mother why he didn't go (and he had no doubt she would find out) was very unappealing. So he forced himself out to the student parking garage, mentally debating whether or not to take his Ducati. The school uniform wasn't really conducive to riding, and Dinklage was strict about dress code for every meeting that didn't involve practice, but parking would be easier and quicker. It took all of three seconds to decide on the bike. The Ducati 999R was a summer congrats-you're-captain-sorry-I-threw-out-all-your-furniture-now-stay-out-of-my-way present from his mother and the finest looking thing Duke had ever laid eyes on. He rarely got the chance to go anywhere that didn't involve taking other people or large bags of equipment, and felt like he couldn't really ignore the opportunity now. The Duc purred its approval as he pulled away. 

Cristofer's was one of those yuppie places that Duke tried really hard to avoid. All the employees were always convinced that hair was the be-all end-all of existence, and that they had the best in the world. They were probably going to ask him all kinds of questions about hair-related things he'd never heard of, then sigh dramatically at his willful ignorance and call him pedestrian. Because that was exactly what had happened at the last four places his mother had sent him for haircuts, and he'd adamantly refused to return to any of them. If it were really up to him, he'd just go to someplace simple, like a barber at a mall or something. But no, his mother insisted on a _stylist._

The receptionist seemed nice enough as he signed in; she pointed him to modern looking couch to wait until his name was called. There, he was almost immediately approached by a Jude Law look-alike with a clipboard and astonished looking grin. "Duke Orsino?" He nodded and the grin intensified. Was he supposed to trust this guy to put a razor to his head? Duke cautiously followed the man across the room to a brightly lit station. 

"So…what'll be today? Highlights?" 

"No. Just cut it short." _'It's starting already. He's staring at himself in the mirror…'_

"Are you sure? 'Cause I could just do a little-" The guy was pulling pieces of his hair back and forth, trying to somehow communicate what an improvement 'just a little' whatever would be, but Duke had absolutely no interest. 

"Short." 

There is was! A deep exhale as only someone who is terribly affronted could do it. "Okay, you're the boss." The tone clearly implied 'it's your funeral' as the electric razor hummed to life. "If you don't mind my saying so, you seem a little tense. We have some aromatherapy stuff that could totally change your life." 

"Uh, no."

"You _are _tense. You look like you haven't slept in a week." Thoughtful pause. Duke was positive that he wasn't going to like whatever came next. The guy was clearly working an angle. "Have you ever considered getting a facial?"

"No! I just want my hair cut, so I can get out of here. I'll catch up on sleep as soon as I can stop avoiding my roommate." 

"Ooohh…Roommate troubles. Never pretty. What'd he do?" 

'_Like I'm going to spill everything to you. This guy must have secret fantasies of being a bartender.'_ "He's hard to get along with. It's like he's trying too hard all the time. He pissed me off talking about a girl I li- _know_, and he had absolutely no social skills." _'Skills like being part of a team. Or not being a chicken-shit.'_ Jude Law Jr. responded with a nod full of false sympathy. Just then, Duke's cell phone buzzed. New text message. 

Jude gave him a 'go ahead' wave. "Just don't move your head." 

It was from Toby:

_r u stil going 2 Cesario's after mtg? _

Duke responded with an affirmative, noticing that Jude was unabashedly reading over his shoulder. _'Whatever. Like I'll ever be back here again anyway.'_

"Ok, you're done. It's a little pedestrian, but you make it work."

Duke practically ran out.

* * *

The meeting before tryouts was always a little sentimental, but the first meeting after them was all business. They hadn't had an official practice yet, so Dinklage tended to make up for it by yelling at them more than usual. All the players knew that they were in for something major today if he had heard anything about the fire alarm last night. Dinklage turned a blind eye to some things, but he'd never let that pass.

Duke found Andrew and Toby in the hallway headed for the meeting room.

"You think Hastings will show?" Toby asked.

"Hell if I know. I haven't seen him all day." 

"He's got to know that we're going to get the scrawny little freak." Andrew was anxious for revenge. 

Sebastian didn't show up, which didn't really come as a surprise to anyone. He'd be in for it when he had to explain why to Coach, but that wasn't Duke's problem so he didn't worry about too much. He had enough to worry about right now. 

The worst of those worries was magnified when Dinklage walked silently into the room- no notebooks, no film- and stared at all of them without saying a word. THWACK! His hands hit the desk in front of him as he learned forward to address them. 

Duke shared a look with Toby, seated next to him. _'Oh yeah. He definitely knows.'_

"Yesterday, I chose a group of young men to represent this school." _'Is Dinklage going to kick _everyone _off the team?' _"And I take that selection seriously. I expect all of you to do the same." Meek nods went all the way around the room. "You may have heard that Headmaster Gold believes that last night a fire alarm accidentally was set off by students trying to cook oatmeal in the senior bathroom." He paused and made a face to indicate his opinion of the Headmaster's naiveté, "I don't agree, but there's nothing to say otherwise. I must be wrong." He was getting louder now, a sign that he was moving on from disappoint to anger. "I know I must be, because _no players of mine_ would do anything so _ridiculously, outrageously stupid _that would set the alarm off_. No players of mine _would look like they are _trying_ to get suspended _two weeks_ before playing Cornwall. _If _any of my players were caught doing such a thing, they would be _off this team _and _begging to stay at this school._ _Do you all understand me?_"

More silent nods. 

"I don't want to hear another God-damned word about this. From _anyone. Ever._ I don't want excuses. I don't want explanations. I want you to realize that your season, before we even started working at it, _could be over right now._" He paused, and turned away from the group. "That's it. Get out of here. I can't even stand to look at you. Know this: practice will start early tomorrow morning and will _hurt _like never before. I'd hate to think that I'm not giving you all enough work to get you to sleep at night." 

There was just nothing good about that. Nothing at all. Duke momentarily thought of trying to say something; maybe take the blame, swear it wasn't them, or promise they wouldn't let him down again. But Dinklage turned back to look at him straight in the eye, and the expression left Duke speechless. He dropped his head and followed the others out of the room. 

As luck would have it, their AWOL teammate appeared before them in the hall as everyone rounded the corner. Duke avoided him but Andrew, Toby, and several others didn't hesitate to give him an un-subtle knock. They were all smarting a bit.

"Nice job pulling the fire alarm, moron." 

"Yeah, way to be a man." 

It wasn't much as insults went, but every one of them knew Dinklage was waiting around the corner and would rip into him better than they ever could. Sometimes the world was just.

* * *

It was by unspoken agreement that they went to change out of uniform first. Cesario's had long been a hangout for Illyria students, and it usually didn't bother them to ditch the jacket and tie and leave the rest. The current mood, though, definitely called for shedding their current clothing. 

Duke always felt that just walking into the place caused a great sense of comfort to wash over him. It was practically one of the most familiar places in the world. In four years, the smell had never changed: pizza sauce, flour, and Pine-sol. They had a favorite booth- front room, by the window- that was almost always empty for them. Every time the boys came in, they ordered a cheese pizza before anything else, and then decided on add-ons later. 

Anyone who knew anything about Cesario's knew that the cheese pizza was unsurpassed. 

Duke spotted several people he knew inside the door. The first day back to class usually pulled in a crowd from the school, and this was no exception. The worked their way to the regular table, stopping to return greetings from friends as they walked by. 

He immediately tossed his jacket into the empty seat next to Toby, refusing to dwell on the spot that used to be filled by their former captain. The music was on, and the familiar atmosphere was putting him in a much better mood. A little pizza, maybe some spaghetti, a plan for revenge on Sebastian, and he'd be ready to face the world in high spirits. 

"I vote we tie him up and leave him somewhere." Andrew suggested half an hour later, his mouth full of pizza.

Duke had to admit the idea was appealing. "Like where?" It might kind of fun to tape him to the flagpole or something.

Andrew shrugged. "Rhode Island?' Duke laughed in response. That would be one way to deal with their problem. "What? He could hitchhike back!" 

"No way. This needs to be straight up public humiliation. He could have gotten us all expelled." Toby replied. 

"Aw, man. Look who's here." _'Speak of the devil and he shall appear.'_ Duke sighed; it seemed as if there was no place left that he could be free of Sebastian Hastings. Just when thing were looking up. Toby glanced over his shoulder, watching Sebastian say something to a waitress as he walked in. Shockingly, the waitress smiled in return. 

"Uh, alright. Don't look at him. Maybe he won't see us." Duke thought that Toby was being overly optimistic. The place wasn't _that_ big. He didn't have a whole lot of better ideas, but Sebastian had already practically run him out of his own room; he was _not_ going get Cesario's too. 

"Spread out so it looks like we got no room." He'd tell Sebastian to sit elsewhere, anywhere that wasn't with them, if he insisted on staying. Toby immediately flopped across the entire bench. Duke punched Andrew over to the far corner of their side when he didn't move. It didn't too any good, though, as Sebastian walked directly over to their booth. They gave a greeting, but said nothing else that would encourage conversation. 

For the first time, Sebastian seemed to take the hint and didn't ask to join. Instead, he gave the room a once over. "Have you guys seen a brunette around here?"

"Hey Sebastian! Mmm…"

"Kia!" It was a joke. Or a relative. That was it; this girl had to be his cousin, or maybe the Cornwall sister. There were plenty of reasons for this girl to be so excited to see him. 

But every justification Duke had for _Sebastian _knowing this _Kia _flew out the window when he promptly grabbed her ass and smirked at their table over her shoulder. _'How the _hell_ did this happen?'_ He tried to form the question aloud, but the words were like smoke and he just couldn't grasp it. 

Kia continued to press against Sebastian, totally absorbed in some excuse he was giving about being busy with a 'new babe pool'. She didn't seem to mind at all. Was this chick for real? 

Andrew seemed to have trouble believing it too. He elbowed Duke, bewildered at the idea of a 'babe pool'. Duke was still confused too. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. Maybe Sebastian was just…oddly close with his cousin. 

"I've been thinking about you a lot…especially at night…and late." 

Toby found the voice that had been eluding Duke. "Ok, did she just say that to_Sebastian_?" 

The sky must be falling outside. Earthquakes and locusts were imminent. Aliens would be landing any minute now. The matrix was collapsing into ones and zeros. The world as Duke knew it was surely facing its final moments. Nothing was making any sense. Maybe he'd suffered some sort of head injury and this was a hallucination. "What... just happened?" 

Kia giggled and Duke was extremely grateful he couldn't hear what was being said. It was bad enough _seeing _it. The brief encounter was apparently almost over, thankfully enough, as Kia leaned in, lips parted. 

Though he'd deny it to his friends and his mother, Duke liked to think of himself as a gentleman. Or at least, close enough to one that he would never leave a (good looking) girl hanging if she was so obviously expecting to be kissed. It didn't seem to bother Sebastian though, and sent her off without. 

"I'd tap that." Not the most polite thing to announce to a full restaurant- especially with the lady in question still in earshot- but she didn't complain and Duke couldn't disagree. '_At least he can play it cool _once _in awhile. Too bad he didn't show any of that attitude last night.'_

He probably would have written the scene off as one of life's little mysteries, convinced that Kia was stupid or slutty, if that had been the end of it. But no sooner than she had strut out the door, the beaded curtain to the back room was pulled open. 

"Sebastian, is that _you_?" 

Contestants number two (_Yvonne, _Sebastian called her), wasted no time in throwing herself into Sebastian's arms. By now, Duke was passed confused and very much determined to find out what the hell was going on. Cesario's wasn't bad or anything, but it wasn't really the type of place that a girl came to eat by herself. Had these two been waiting on him here? And if the first had been his girlfriend, what was this one here for? She was the friendliest ex Duke had ever seen. Toby and Andrew seemed as clueless as he was. There certainly were hidden layers to Hastings. 

"Our school lost its top gun, Sebastian Hastings." Duke had assumed that Sebastian had gone to Cornwall with his sister. He didn't spend a lot of time there, but he was pretty sure that he would have heard if Sebastian were top anything. Wherever he came from, the place must have been terrible. 

Whereas Kia went along with everything Sebastian said without complaint, this girl was a little more dramatic. She let loose some tearful spiel that didn't sway Sebastian a bit. Duke felt like he was unable to process all this new information. He had no clue how Sebastian managed to gather these devotees, who seemed to have no problem letting him treat them somewhat indifferently. He couldn't even _name_ a girl that would stand and wait for a smack on the ass, let alone such a good-looking one. 

Well, if Sebastian could build a collection of them, then more power to him. The guy clearly had some kind of social prowess where the ladies were concerned. And that might be useful to have around. 

"Ok, we might need to do a little re-evaluating here." Which meant they couldn't send him to Rhode Island just yet. Toby agreed, but Andrew's attention had been captured elsewhere. Duke looked up; what was with all these girls walking around today?

From the moment the blonde started talking though, Duke knew she couldn't be here for Sebastian. _Way _too forceful. 

"Girls with asses like mine _do not_ _talk_ to boys with faces like yours." She deftly put Andrew down, both insulting him and complimenting herself in the process. If she wasn't such an obvious bitch, Duke might be inclined to thank her. Andrew was convinced he was some sort of ladies man, but he usually limited himself to cheerleaders who like athletes and weren't all that particular about names. He also wasn't left speechless easily, and it was by far the best entertainment Duke'd had all day. _'What I would give right now to have this on tape.'_

"I'm looking for my boyfriend, Sebastian Hastings. Have you guys seen him?" No way. There was just no way. _'How could _this_ girl possibly be…Hell, forget how; _why_ would he date this bitch?'_ It was a little frustrating now. Sebastian gets three gorgeous girls chasing after him, and Duke couldn't even get one to speak to him?_'How did this happen?' _It was like some kind of twisted three bears story. The first was too clingy, the second was too needy, and the third… Well, Goldilocks was beginning to look a little impatient, and Duke thought maybe Sebastian deserved to deal with her for awhile. She really didn't seem the sort to roll over as easily as the others. He glanced back to see Sebastian approaching a guy at another table and pointed it out. Let the games begin. 

Sebastian obviously knew that she wouldn't be easy to handle, as he made no secret of trying to avoid her. The pair practically ran a lap about the restaurant, dodging patrons and pizzas with little regard to anyone around them. The conversation was a bit disjointed, but if Duke understood correctly, his first impression of the blonde had been correct. He couldn't help but be a little impressed; he knew a lot of guys who would put up a girl like that just because she was hot. If Sebastian, who didn't seem to be all that discriminating at first glance, really was willing to dump her over lack of depth, it meant he had to have_some_ integrity. There was some _major_ re-evaluating to be done.

"When my eyes are closed, I see you for what you truly are. Which is _ugly_! We're_ done_." Brilliant. They definitely needed Sebastian Hastings around. Maybe they could be good for each other. Sebastian was on the soccer team for better or for worse; maybe spending a little more time with his teammates would help him out. If Duke had to deal with a pack of girls hovering around, well, that was the price he was prepared to pay. 

And what do you know? There happened to be an empty seat at their table. Duke seized the opportunity to make amends.

"What's wrong with you guys? Scoot over and make some room for the man!" Duke couldn't figure out how they never noticed this about Sebastian. Had they really just been trying to figure out how to avoid him? The boys filled back into the booth, now exhilarated. It was suddenly quite easy to make nice.

"You are officially my idol now, man." Duke stuck his hand out. This could work.

* * *

They didn't make it back to campus until late evening. No more wayward girls came looking for Sebastian, but the boys weren't in a hurry to go anywhere. Duke found himself having a much better time than he would have ever thought possible with Sebastian around. He still didn't know what they guy's problem had been yesterday, but whatever it was must have been resolved because he seemed a lot more relaxed. 

"Are there anymore girls we should know about? Is there a Swedish flight attendant?" Andrew asked as they walked back to campus. 

Sebastian laughed- an odd, high-pitched sound- and looked away. "Nah…those three keep me busy enough."

Toby laughed. "Are you blushing? That is so lame." 

The group reached the dorm and diverged into their separate rooms. Duke wasted no time in pulling off his shirt and changing into sweats, vaguely aware that Sebastian hadn't moved from where he flopped down on the bed. Turning around, he noticed Sebastian breathing sort of strangely._'Shit! Is he really injured? I completely forgot.' _"Are you alright, man?"

"Yeah…Fine. I mean, _I'm _fine." He cleared his throat. "I'm just gonna…go." He made a gesture down to the bathroom as he pulled pj's out of a bag. Duke nodded silently. He wasn't all bad, but the guy was still so _weird. _

Sebastian returned a moment later, re-dressed. There was silence for a short time, but surprisingly not an awkward one. After a little while, though, Duke couldn't hold out any longer.

"Why'd you do it?"

Sebastian, thankfully, didn't pretend he didn't understand. He stared for minute, mouthing parts of words as he waged some sort of internal battle. "Do you really want to know the truth?" 

Duke raised an eyebrow. Obviously.

"The whole thing was for girls' sake." Sebastian shrugged apologetically.

"You had a _date_ in the middle of the night?" Duke was floored. Granted, he wouldn't be the first to sneak a girl into the boy's wing or try to sneak into theirs, but it was a bold move on the first night back. 

Sebastian looked confused for a moment, and then put on a smug grin. "You know it, bro."

"How exactly do you get those girls to follow you around like that?" 

"You'd be surprised how well a girl will respond if a guy would just be nice." _'Be nice? _That's _all he's going to give up?'_ Duke shook his head. He was through picking the brain of Sebastian Hastings for tonight. There probably wasn't anyone in the world who could understand the guy. 

Sebastian sat up from the bed. "Can I ask you a question?" Turnabout being fair play and all, Duke couldn't see why not. "Shoot."

"How'd you end up with me for a roommate?"

Duke laughed. He honestly had no idea what went through Gold's head in making _that_ decision. "No clue. Maybe there weren't any other vacancies. My old roommate graduated last year, and I put off requesting a new one. I guess I never really thought about what this year would be like without him." It was true, he realized. He had recognized the fact that he would always be a year younger than his best friend, but the reality of it was something totally different. 

"Do you still get to see him at all?"

"Not anymore." That effectively ended that conversation. No one could miss the bitterness in his voice. Duke figured the guy would mind his own business, until Sebastian spoke up again.

"That bites. My best friend graduated ahead of me too. For awhile it was really bad- he got a job, and was never around. I figured it was time to move on. He was always the one that talked me out of doing stupid stuff, and then bailed me out of trouble when I did it anyway. So I made an appoint-_made a point_ to see him whenever I could, and things worked out okay."

"Yeah, well, sometimes it's better to move on."

_Summer, New Haven_

_Yale hadn't been the first choice of colleges for Rob Lennox, but pressure from his family and the chance to be a first year starter did the trick. I was pretty happy about it: my best friend of three years going to college only half an hour away. He knew but didn't especially care about how I felt toward his sister. They weren't close and he generally tried to stay out of her love life. Everything was okay until he moved to New Haven over the summer, into a house with some of the other soccer players. I hung out with him there a lot, trying to avoid my mom's obsessive perkiness while she purged the house of everyone and everything that offended her. His new teammates were cool guys and it became a pretty regular thing to spend afternoons playing with them. _

_At first, the jokes about 'Rob's hot sister' were just designed to annoy him. When it became apparent that he didn't care enough to be bothered by it, the flirting started. I complained to Rob about it on the grounds that it was offensive; they were just using her to give the new guy a hard time, but of course I was jealous. They were everything I wasn't: witty, confident, charismatic. And all I did as the weeks wore on was sit by Rob playing video games and watching it happen, getting increasingly sick to my stomach. _

_It was inevitable that one of them would ask her out._

"I guess sometimes it is best to cut your losses. But three years is a long time to let go to waste. You haven't given up on _Olivia _have you?" Toby and Andrew liked to talk too much. Sebastian had clearly heard stories already. 

It seemed like everything came back to Olivia for him these days. Maybe it was time to think about moving on from that too. He'd spent the better part of four years dreaming, but if it came down to playing soccer or having Olivia, what would he do? 

Duke, sitting in his desk chair, snapped his head around so fast he felt his neck crack. "Huh? No…I don't know. Maybe I should. She's had the chance to speak to me for three and a half years and there's been nothing. Can we not talk about this?" How had he gotten suckered into this conversation? 

"I don't have all the answers, man. When I got kicked off the soccer team- I mean, off the team _and _kicked out- at my old school, I thought all I could do was let it go. But then there was the chance to go out for it here, and I'd loved it so much for so long…" Sebastian's voice suddenly reminded him of their previous conversation in the cafeteria. Duke got the feeling that Sebastian wasn't used to talking to a lot of guys. He really needed more friends and fewer girlfriends. 

"Damn, man." Duke flung a handy textbook at his roommate. "If I ever start to gush like that, make sure you stop me."

* * *

Part 2 is complete! Hope you all enjoyed. Another update will hopefully be coming soon;-) I try not to post a chapter until the part after it is done, in case of any last minute story edits. However, since the part I just started writing (which is chapter 4) has all the carnival stuff in it, it might take a little longer than usual. Chapter 3 is mostly a collection of smaller scenes, so I'll try to hammer down all the major elements and have it out a little early. 

As a note, one of Duke's lines was paraphrased from the quote by Mia Hamm: "I am a member of a team, and I rely on the team, I defer to it and sacrifice for it, because the team, not the individual, is the ultimate champion." I like the idea that the Illyria boy's team is a little more progressive in their choice of idols ;-) 


	3. I'll Work With You

Whew! This chapter was so much fun to write, but took a lot of figuring out. I wanted the first "soccer montage" to get a lot more explanation, but fitting it into a realistic timeline that still fit into the movie world was something, let me tell you. Plus, this chapter has Eunice in it, and she's so off the wall that it's hard to think like she thinks ;-) I apologize for the long delay; chapter 4 isn't going very well. It's not nearly as finished as I wanted it to be, but I had to delete the whole carnival scene after my (super amazing) editor suggested the original plan made some on the characters seem un-likable. It's being re-worked, but now I'm a little behind on things. I will try to catch up and have parts 4 and 5 done soon, but I don't want to keep you guys waiting for chapter 4 too long.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. I totally encourage questions and comments;-)

As an aside for this part- I really am conflicted on whether or not the science class is chemistry or biology. By this point in high school, they are almost always separate classes, and yet it seems that class covers a lot of ground. Thoughts, anyone? I'm calling it chemistry because I like the double entendre;-) And hey, when in doubt: "biology is really chemistry, chemistry is really physics, and physics is really math" . It's all in the family ;-)

Standard disclaimer from the previous chapter applies, with the addition that the quote taken from _Two Gentlemen of Verona_ is not owned by me either. Which, while being one of the earliest and not the strongest of Shakespeare's plays, I still totally recommend reading. There's also part of a line copped directly from one of Orsino's speeches in Twelfth Night. Can you find it?;-)

Some extra notes about the school and the soccer are at the end. Enjoy!

Play On

Chapter 3

_The rules of soccer are very simple, basically it is this: if it moves, kick it. If it doesn't move, kick it until it does._ -Phil Woosnam

_Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I'm very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that._ -Bill Shankly

In complete contradiction of the general opinion of most students at Illyria, Duke didn't mind getting up early most days. He liked to be outside in the early morning when the air was still cool. He even liked early morning practices, although he complained aloud about it as bitterly as anyone else. He liked returning to his room before class, having already finished the toughest part of his day, just as the rest of the students were only getting up.

Most days.

"He's finally gone 'round the bend." Andrew muttered under his breath, "He's trying to kill us."

Duke had lost count of how many times they had gone up and down the stadium stairs, but it felt like it was approaching infinity. They reached the bottom once again, and Dinklage directed them all to start running laps on the field.

Coach Dinklage did not lie. He often exaggerated, was noted for sarcasm, and slung insults like no tomorrow, but a liar he was not. He set morning practice for a grueling five am start, and Duke was sure that they hadn't stopped running once in the past three hours. It wasn't the first time he'd done it, and likely not the last, but that knowledge was cold comfort to his aching legs.

"The whole lot of you look pathetic! Give me five good laps and you're through. For now. Better do them fast before I change my mind." A groan came from the back of the pack, and Duke risked a look over his shoulder. Sebastian, Feldman, Donner and Potentsky were bringing up the rear, and a sizable gap remained between them and the rest of the team. If he'd had enough breath, Duke would have sighed. By the time he finished the run, the four of them were almost a complete lap behind. He glanced longingly at the corridor to the locker room, where the exhausted group was starting collect, and then again at the lagging quartet. They were going slower with every step _'Damn it all.' _

Duke took off running again, making up the space quickly. "You are guys are making this harder on yourselves by giving up." He commented as he came up behind them, "There's only half a lap left. You can do better than this. Get over the wall." Sebastian nodded without looking at him, and somehow found the energy to hurl himself forward. Potentsky, Feldman, and Donner followed shortly behind, and they managed to end up at a good clip.

The whole campus was still quiet when they were finally able to call it quits, but it wouldn't have mattered. All Duke could hear was the harsh sound of his rapid own breathing. He doubled over, positive that one more sprint would give him a heart attack. Dinklage was giving him a look that Duke roughly translated as 'what the hell are you thinking?', and he knew then that he must still be on the shit list. They had a long way to go to be great.

Still, Duke had managed to stay on his feet, and more than half the team had unceremoniously collapsed to the dirt when the whistle blew. Truth be told, Duke wanted to do the same, but experience cautioned him otherwise. Falling down only made it harder to get back up. He staggered into the locker room, anxious to get into the shower and get dressed. He couldn't really afford to skip out of class today; for one, he'd already missed yesterday, and two, Dinklage wouldn't think twice about keeping this up tomorrow if anyone played hooky. In slow succession, and with much groaning, everyone else followed suit. The atmosphere was mostly silent, and complaints were minimal; a product of both exhaustion and appreciation. Duke knew every one of them hated these types of workouts while they were in it, but valued the feeling of success that came later. Cornwall, the rest of the league, and the state title were nothing compared to the fury of Dinklage. And really, what's the point of practice if you aren't going to feel it afterwards?

Sebastian was the only one still lying on the grass by the time Duke came out. "C'mon man. You're going to be late." He gave the prone boy a nudge with his foot. "Get up."

"Urunghh."

Duke laughed. Almost everyone had a similar reaction after their first "Dinklage is pissed" training session. Of course, it was made even worse by the fact that this was his first day on the team; if the new players survived this and stuck around, they would certainly be worth having.

After seeing them in action, Duke felt pretty good that his first impression of them had been correct. Dinklage hadn't spared anything for the new guys and Haimes had still been especially impressive. But once again, Sebastian ended up lagging behind. "You better rush if you want breakfast."

Toby and Andrew exited just as Sebastian trudged past them into the emptying locker room.

"Word got around quick about your show at Cesario's, man." Toby piped up, "Everybody who saw you kick that blonde to curb thought it was the coolest thing ever. You're the man."

"Now get your ass in gear." Andrew added, "I am _not _going to class without breakfast."

Sebastian brightened visibly at the implication, but waved them off. "You guys go on…I might be awhile."

He looked like he needed the shower more than breakfast, so the boys let him go.

* * *

The three boys stared at the middle of their table, heads slightly tilted in contemplation. Their morning had already been rough; they certainly did not need this sort of problem with breakfast.

"Are…are you going to _eat it_?" Duke winced at the thought.

"I think it's the geek equivalent of a horse head in the sheets. You've been made an offer- Ow!"

"You both suck." Toby grumbled as he pulled his hand away from Andrew's head.

The offender was a cupcake. It was carefully and psychotically decorated with large amounts of drippy icing. A knife- not the plastic cafeteria kind, but an honest-to-goodness steak knife- stuck straight out of the middle. And although no one saw who left it outside Toby and Andrew's door, they could all hazard a guess.

'_I don't even want to know _why_. This is one of the creepiest things I've ever seen.'_

Eunice was nowhere to be seen in the cafeteria, though that didn't always mean she wasn't around. She was easy to overlook when it suited her.

"Do you think I should ask her out?" Duke had to do a double take to make sure that Toby was being sincere.

"Hell no. But that's just me." He'd sort of always thought of Eunice as the kind of girl Malcolm would end up with.

"I agree with Duke. There are plenty of hot cheerleaders at this school. For the love of God, man, just pick one!"

Duke shook his head as Toby lunged for Andrew again. Maybe they needed an outside opinion. After all, isn't that what Sebastian was best at?

"Hey! Why don't you just take this…little _issue_…to Hastings?"

"The man does have a knack for dealing with crazy broads."

* * *

Duke didn't see either of them again until the last class of the day, walking into chemistry. Toby and Sebastian rounded the corner in front of the lab, deep in conversation. Whatever Sebastian was saying must been interesting, because Toby was hanging on every word. They entered the classroom together to find Andrew already seated in the back. Duke did okay in most areas, but chemistry wasn't his best subject and he was glad that this year he'd have a few friendly faces around. It also looked like they would be Malcolm free this semester, something that Duke was grateful for.

"...I'm telling you, there's no way it could be as bad as dating Monique." Toby nodded at Sebastian as the boys approached the table. "Bitch was like the devil incarnate." Duke thought that Sebastian must have been anxious to break up with her for quite awhile, because he looked excited at being able to get this out.

"So how long did you date that girl for anyway?" It was obvious that she was hot, but if she was as bad as Sebastian made it seem, it was hard to believe they lasted very long. Should things really be that hard?

"_Too_ long. Ball and frickin' _chain_, man." He was definitely enjoying this.

"_I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world-"_. Duke ducked his head and chuckled as Sebastian scrambled for his phone and pronounced it to be yet another girl. He wasn't the first guy to have his cell hijacked by a girl who wanted a 'special ring', and Duke felt for him. It seemed like every time they were out, some girl thought it was _cute_ to add her number to his phone. It wouldn't be so bad if it was left at that, but it never failed that some bubblegum-pop girl band sounded from his cell in the middle of the locker room. No wonder he didn't like talking to girls.

His eyes were caught by a flurry of movement at the door. Olivia walked in, beautifully outlined by the light from the window behind her, with a smile on her face. It brought his spirits up enough to not be concerned when Malcolm entered right behind her. Then the panic struck.

'_She's _here_? Now? That could only mean…' _"Oh my God, oh my God. She's in our _class_." How did he not know that? This was karmic retribution for skipping yesterday. And maybe for that time in sophomore year he shut Malcolm in a gym locker. He cursed to himself; he'd managed to keep from taking his worst subject with her for the past three years. But now Olivia was in this class and he was going to look like an idiot. '_Why couldn't she have been in advanced lit instead? I could prove I'm more than a dumb jock in _that_ class. What is she going to think?' _

"Dude, quit blushing. That's _lame_."

"Shut up. I'm not blushing." They might be sort-of friends now, but Sebastian had retained his ability to say the most annoying thing possible. Even worse, his comment had been loud enough that if Olivia were paying attention she could have _heard_ it. Still, if _Sebastian _noticed him acting uneasy, that should probably a sign to shape up.

At that moment, the teacher happened by with the perennial bane of chemistry: random lab partner assignments. It usually wasn't too bad; Duke was friends with (or at least knew) just about everyone, and ever since an ill-fated experiment in sixth grade, it was a school policy to bar him from being paired up with Malcolm.

"Eunice Bates." _'No way. She'll find some way to poison me and make it look like an accident…'_ "You've got to be kidding me."He was about turn around and offer it up to Toby in exchange for whoever he drew (which undoubtedly _had_ to be better) when Sebastian slapped him. _Slapped_ him!

"Be nice." It came with a pointed look, and Duke relented with a sigh. _'I guess it can't hurt to give it a shot…if I don't _die._'_ Toby, naturally, also jumped to Eunice's defense, but Andrew was clearly on his side. Things were probably about to degenerate very quickly when Sebastian ignored them to read his slip.

"Olivia Lennox." Olivia turned at the sound of her name, smiling wider as she wet her lips. Duke swore he saw it happen in slow motion. How the hell did Sebastian _do_ that?

"You _know _her?" _'Christ, is he dating her now too?'_

"I talked to her for like a second." Sebastian was trying to play unconcerned. Duke didn't buy it.

"About what? She gave you the _nod_." Olivia was friendly enough under most circumstances, but she hadn't smiled at a guy like that since July. Duke couldn't decide if that boded well or not.

"Yeah, she did, a good one too." "She gives good nod." Wasn't it just two days ago he had been talking smack about her ass? Now magically she'd joined his quasi-harem? Duke had spent three years just trying to have a conversation!

"I can't believe you got her as a lab partner…" _'What I would give to switch places with him right now. Or better yet…'_ What a perfect out; why hadn't that been his first thought? A perfectly legitimate opportunity to speak to her three times a week. Maybe she could help him study, and then he could take her out to dinner as a thank-you, and then…"Switch with me!"

"I can't! I said her name out loud." What kind of logic was that? He was pulling excuses out of his ass. Duke'd said his partner's name too, but _he_ certainly wasn't all that concerned about it. For all Sebastian's 'be nice' mentality, he obviously didn't want to get stuck with Eunice either. Great.

He watched as Sebastian crossed the room, unable to tear his eyes away from where Olivia was sitting. Life was so unfair.

"I'm gonna be the best lab partner you ever had." Eunice had appeared out of nowhere, and Duke half expected the phrase 'I see dead people' or something similar to follow the statement. _'Be nice.'_

It wasn't as easy as it sounded. How was he supposed to respond to that? "…Cool." Well, it was a start.

He did his best to focus on whatever lab safety precautions they were supposed to be going over, but it wasn't easy. Malcolm had (yet again) grabbed a spot near Olivia, but she and Sebastian were involved in conversation. He made it look easy, and Duke wished he could come across that way. It wasn't in him to flip the switch so casually; Sebastian could go from making profane comments to girly-girl romance in a heartbeat. It was hard to tell what he was really thinking. He found himself a little disappointed that Olivia would buy into it so readily.

Fine. So maybe whatever thing it was that made girls throw themselves at Sebastian on sight was incomprehensible to him. That didn't mean it still couldn't work to his advantage. He had been approaching this entirely the wrong way. He'd never play a soccer game without having a plan to win, and now he could do the same where Olivia was concerned. They were teammates, right? Able to compensate for and help each other. If Sebastian could get her to start thinking about dating again, _especially _a soccer player, then it wouldn't be such a stretch for her to think…

Duke had his course of action.

The rest of class passed with standard tedium; Duke discovered the upside of having Eunice as a partner was she rarely spoke, even more rarely expected him to reply, and did everything she needed to do without complaining. All of that was fine by him because it provided plenty of time to keep an eye on Olivia. And Sebastian, just in case.

"Alright, students. Clean up your equipment and you're free to go." The dreary voice was absolutely wrong for how grateful Duke felt at hearing it. It should have been shouted, accompanied by confetti and the hallelujah chorus.

"I like to take the beakers home and watch them soak in hydrochloric acid. Do you want to come?" It shouldn't be surprising coming from Eunice. It was no less creepy, but at least it wasn't out of character. Duke was sort of relived that she didn't carry the stuff around with her.

"Um, no. But you…have fun. With that." Eunice smiled and nodded, pushing the tray and beaker into her backpack. Everyone else seemed content to make due with the soap and water available, so Duke was thankful to be able to leave a bit early. It would make it much easier to corner Sebastian after class.

* * *

He couldn't go too far, so Duke positioned himself outside the chemistry wing in the main hall. He was far enough removed from the labs themselves that no one would see him lurking, but Sebastian would have to come out this way. The danger, of course, was that many other people passed through here. And if he needed further evidence that there was some seriously bad karma in his life, the first person to come walking by was one of several he was trying to avoid.

"Hey, Coach."

"Duke." Normally, off the field, that would be the extent of the interaction. This time, though, Dinklage seemed like he had something else to say.

"Interesting route you took on the run this morning." _'That could mean a lot of different things. What is he looking for?' _

"Just trying to make sure everyone finished up." Duke tried for casual, but wasn't sure how well he hit the mark. Dinklage fixed him with the same look he had in practice that morning, and it was just as unnerving now as it had been hours ago. Whatever he was thinking about he kept to himself.

A crisp nod was all he gave. "See you later." Duke had no idea what to make of the brief conversation; Dinklage certainly wasn't giving him much room to move back into good graces. _I know you're a good player…but you need to be more than that. You need to show them greatness. _ It was harder than it sounded.

The majority of the class came flooding out moments later. Duke had been determined to grab Sebastian, but had a moment of weakness as Olivia stepped by with Malcolm right behind her. He had a binder right in his hand, it was have been so easy just to thump him as he passed…But he was trying to _be nice_, and nice guys didn't do that, right?

Nevertheless, he was a man on a mission. It was no problem to pull Sebastian out of the main thoroughfare by his coat. He still insisted on wearing the jacket and tie- _'The preppie'_- and Duke, feeling frustrated after encountering Dinklage, was less gentle than he might have been. They were thankfully at the end of the hall. "You, sit."

But of course, some freshman was also there, apparently thinking that he was welcome to listen in. That wasn't cool at all. "You go." Nothing. Didn't this kid realize that life changing events were about to occur? "Go!"

Time to cut to the chase. "Did you say anything about me?" Sebastian was new. It was totally logical that she would ask about how he was getting along with his roommate. There were a lot of ways such a conversation could go, and they weren't all great.

"No." They hadn't been on friendly terms for very long; Duke could _maybe _understand that he didn't have a lot of great anecdotes to toss around in chemistry. He was sort of thankful that Sebastian wasn't blabbing about what he did know. "Was I supposed to?" '_Is he being sarcastic?'_

If Sebastian was going to make him spell it out, then he would. This was important, regardless of how much enjoyment Sebastian might get making fun of him. "Oh, come on. This…This is perfect." But Sebastian looked honestly confused. _'He can't be that clueless.'_ He needed Sebastian to be in his corner on this. No other guy had been able to make her crack a smile lately; he was the only one who could get Olivia to listen. "You get to spend an hour with her every other day! _You_ can convince her to go out with me."

"Dude, she had that option for like, three and a half years." Sebastian reminded him. His implication was clear: _You are gushing like a girl. Stop it._

Duke took a deep breath. Fair enough.

He wasn't stupid. It had occurred to him that Sebastian may need some convincing. He had tried to come up with a good reason- some kind of argument that would perfectly illustrate how beneficial it would be to everyone for him to date Olivia- all through chemistry. But in the end, there really hadn't been one. Besides, he really didn't know Sebastian all that well; it was hard to say exactly what would win him over. The only thing he knew about Sebastian was that he really liked to play soccer. And Duke was in no position to put in a good word with Dinklage because he was already in the…

The idea struck him like a sledgehammer; so elegant a solution he almost couldn't believe it. _'This _is_ perfect.'_ It would get Sebastian to help, get him a date with Olivia and, most importantly, get Dinklage to like him again. "I'll tell you what. You do this, I'll work with you on your soccer. I'll make you good enough to make first string." Two birds, meet one stone. It was a little more devious than his normal fare, but it wasn't as though he was lying. Sebastian needed some help, but making him a starter would be just the ticket to show Dinklage how seriously he was taking his job.

"By the Cornwall game?" He was interested. Duke hadn't been planning on that short of a time frame, but he'd spend twenty-four hours a day on the field if that was what it took. So much the better, anyway.

"Abso_lute_ly." He'd do just about _any_thing.

Sebastian looked a little hypnotized, like he was envisioning the moment he might take the field against Cornwall. But then he was back, all business. "Ok, yeah. You got a deal."

"You're the man." That's all there was too it. Everybody gets what they want, everybody would end up happy. How could this fail?

"Yes I am."

* * *

Technically, afternoon practice was canceled on days they had morning workouts. They were ideally supposed to use the time to catch up on other responsibilities, but Duke wasn't surprised to find most of the team on the field after class. Without Dinklage around, the intensity level had dropped a notch and there wasn't a lot going on except for basic drills and a lot of messing around. That was just fine by him; the less people paying attention to them, the better.

Sebastian arrived a few minutes after Duke did, clearly startled by the number of people present. He didn't comment on it, though, and Duke was happy to press on before he changed his mind. He hadn't really gotten a lot of time to put together a plan for this, and an unwilling pupil wouldn't help matters.

"Sooo…where do we start?"

"Bicycle kick." Duke didn't really know what kind skills Sebastian would be capable of, but this was one thing he'd be able to teach. Probably. "It's good for getting noticed because it's flashy. Not a lot of people in the league try it. You do it right, and you'll have everyone's attention. Of course, it comes with the risk of looking like a conceited ass if you mess it up come game time." Sebastian nodded knowingly; he had plenty of experience looking like an ass. Duke grinned.

"Once you get the motion it's not too bad." He tossed the ball to demonstrate. Duke loved playing soccer, loved the sport and the competition. But there was something inherently more fun about doing this one single move; forcing his entire body to defy gravity, however momentarily. It felt like flying. The ball expelled a soft "whumpf!" as it met foot, and arced a path straight out of his field of vision. Seconds later there was the rustle of net being hit. Perfect.

Sebastian's face remained neutral. "That's great and all…but how am I supposed to do it?" _'Time to get down to it. Here goes nothing.'_

"Stand over here; keep your back to the goal. In general, there are two important things to watch out for coming down: don't break your fall with your head, and don't break your head with your knee." Duke paused for a moment and scanned the other players around them.

"Hey! Ewing!" Ewing had been shoveling some passes back and forth with Sanger and Feldman, but immediately stopped at the call. Duke tilted his head to the goal. "Get in the net. We need some practice over here."

Sebastian mimicked the leg movement a few times before making an actual effort at the jump, but it didn't seem to do much good. He was having difficulty timing the ball correctly, and gravity seemed to be especially fond of him.

"You've got to watch the ball; even in a game, nothing else around you matters once you're in the air. The faster you can move the easier it gets." He nodded and gamely attempted again, but met with the same result. Duke winced; he really should have brought out the mats for this. Sebastian was going to be solid bruises tomorrow.

"Make sure you put an arm behind you to break the fall." He offered as Sebastian hit dirt once again, "and try not to land flat on your back. Ouch. A kick with your right foot should push you a little to your left side." Sebastian made marginal improvement as the afternoon wore into evening; he had managed to, in fact, kick the ball, but that was about it. When Ewing excused himself to go to dinner, though, Duke figured they should all call it quits. And probably start with something simpler next time.

Sebastian was once again stretched out on the grass, breathing heavily and showing no willingness to move. _'Déjà vu.' _

"You already missed breakfast. You gonna skip dinner too?" Duke stared down at the smaller boy.

Sebastian moaned from his spot in the grass. "Aren't I moving yet?"

With a snort of disbelief, Duke grabbed Sebastian's arm and hauled him ungracefully upward. "I'm going to go grab a shower first. You?"

"No way, man. I skipped breakfast, I'm _starving._ Catch up with you later."

* * *

Sebastian was just leaving dinner as Duke arrived, so they didn't meet up until they both reached their room that night. There wasn't much conversation; Duke had to call around to find out what he missed from class on Monday (some assigned reading for lit, but otherwise the general consensus was 'not much') and Sebastian seemed content to lay on his bed tossing a soccer ball to himself.

Duke was jarred awake at 4:30. He steadfastly ignored the alarm; clearly one of them had left it set from the previous day. There were stirrings from the other side of the room as Sebastian turned it off and Duke was just about to return to sleep when he heard the door shut. He sat straight up, convinced for a moment that there _was_ morning practice, before confusion set in. Had Sebastian thought the same and gone out? It would be a pretty difficult mistake to make. Dinklage had reminded them several times that tomorrow's practice (_today's_ practice, he mentally corrected) was after class and they should be thankful for it. So where was Sebastian?

Duke glanced around, sort of hoping that an explanation would present itself and he could get back to sleep. The only thing he noticed was that Sebastian's sneakers were gone from their usual spot on the floor, and the soccer ball that was usually on top of them was also missing. It wasn't strange, really- Sebastian carried the thing around like a toddler carried a blankie- but it meant he probably hadn't just run to bathroom. _'God damn it. Sebastian, where the hell are you?'_ Maybe he had another late night date. Or maybe he'd left the ball somewhere and had gone out to go get it…at four-thirty in the morning for God-only-knows-what reason.

Sighing, Duke rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but pronounced it impossible shortly after. His body was used to getting up and staying up; lying still like this was frustrating and making him feel antsy.

He heaved himself out of bed, shoving feet in sneakers and picking up a sweatshirt on his way out. Maybe a few laps around Windsor Hall would settle him down enough to grab another hour of sleep before class. And if Sebastian were back by then, he'd get an earful for leaving the damn alarm on!

He stretched for moment before taking off along the empty walkway at a sprint. Two laps later, a flash of blue caught his eye on the lawn across from the administration building. He stopped and approached slowly, pulling on the sweatshirt as the cool air caught up him with. This couldn't be ignored; it wouldn't be the first time someone from Cornwall had snuck onto campus to try something stupid before the game. As he neared, though, it became obvious what the movement was: this was where Sebastian had run off to.

He was just running basic exercises, and he was doing pretty well. He definitely had experience moving the ball. Until, that is, he tried another kick and lost his balance, sending the ball flying awkwardly skyward as he went down. Duke smiled in response. That would need a lot of work too, but at least Sebastian was willing to put in some effort. He was taking this seriously too.

Now, the decision. To interrupt or not? Sebastian couldn't have expected or wanted company coming out alone at this hour. Still, he wasn't going to make any improvement if he kept making the same mistakes over and over, and they didn't have a lot of time to waste. _'Maybe there's some middle ground.' _Duke watched from his spot for a moment longer, using the distance to observe with a more critical eye. _'I can at least give him a push in the right direction.'_

"Don't settle for just trying to hit it; it needs to go where you're aiming." Duke finally spoke up. Sebastian, startled, hit the ground again. As he righted himself, Duke continued. "You're waiting too long to kick the ball. Try going for it when you think it's two seconds too early. You'll get it."

Sebastian made another attempt, though he still had yet to say a word, and managed to get a shaky volley off in the right direction. Signs of progress. Duke nodded. "Getting better. Keep at it." There was silence as Sebastian repeated the move three more times, and Duke decided he'd hung around long enough.

"Alright, I'm headed back in." He'd let Sebastian have his solitary practice. At least now he had something productive to work on. He paused, then added, "You're good at handling the ball. Make sure you show it before you try to get elaborate."

As he turned back towards the building, he heard Sebastian utter his first words of the encounter.

"Thanks."

* * *

Wednesday ended up going rather nicely once it began in earnest. Since he didn't share any classes with Olivia today, the pressure was off and that naturally made things go much more smoothly. No one made an issue of the fact that'd he'd been mysteriously absent on Monday, though almost everyone probably knew why by now.

Starting his day with advanced lit wouldn't have been his ideal choice, but since he'd qualified for it last year, and it was widely known the teacher was much easier than her Standard English counterpart, Duke couldn't refuse. Even if it was going to mean a year of Shakespeare.

The rest of his classes were par for the course; he'd had all the rest of his teachers before, and knew friends in every class. It was shaping up to be a pretty good year. His _last _year. He'd thought of that several times, of course; college applications and scouts would be floating around soon, and he knew that part of his determination to win the state title this time around was the fact that he would never have the chance to do it again. But little things had slipped him by without any appreciation: the first day, initiating new teammates, moving in. He would never do them at Illyria again.

Waxing sentimental was never a good way to go into practice, so Duke did his best to push the thought aside as he headed into the locker room that afternoon. Dinklage was probably still in a bad mood, and nobody ever knew what might be the thing to set him off.

"Alright, girls. I hope you enjoyed sleeping in today. Don't give me a reason to put a stop to it." Dinklage sent them off on a run to begin, and followed it up with all their normal drills. For about an hour or so, Duke was convinced that they might have actually impressed him enough yesterday to discourage anything _too_ unpleasant today.

But that came to screeching halt when they were called into a huddle on the field.

"We're going to finish up with short scrimmages today." That in itself wasn't too bad. They didn't usually start that the second day in, but scrimmages were almost always fun. "I'll be taking notes. Every time I see something go wrong, everyone on the team'll do a set of stairs up and down the stadium tomorrow." _'Holy shit. He _is _trying to kill us.'_

The assistant coaches divvied up the teams, and Duke knew that Dinklage was going to be watching him especially: everyone else on his scrimmage team was a second stringer. He was going to become very well acquainted with the stadium.

For a few minutes everyone was hesitant, afraid to make _any_ move for fear of making a wrong one. But the spirit of competition took over eventually, and soon enough it became a game. Duke was doing his best, but he couldn't be everywhere and had already noted a dozen instances that would translate into stairs. They would lose the light soon; he was determined that even if they would be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow, they could at least do _something _good right now.

Sebastian had the ball at midfield, trying to put some of his lessons to work outmaneuvering a defender. It wasn't working too well, and Dinklage was making a lot of marks on his clipboard. Duke cursed when the player stripped the ball and took off with it.

'_Damn it. Sebastian, if you can't do it right, don't do it at all…' _Still, Sebastian looked defeated and that wasn't going to help right now.

Duke jogged past him, "Just standing there won't change anything. Let's get it back."

Time to act. He easily picked the ball off the opposing midfielder, and noticing Dinklage watching with interest, passed it smoothly to Sebastian with a look that warned against getting fancy. Dinklage had no patience for that. Sebastian, thankfully, just did what he was good at- moving the ball steadily downfield until he was outstripped by the fullback marking him. Duke rushed in, catching Sebastian's eye as he glanced over a shoulder. The fullback tried to steal as Sebastian feinted a break for the goal, but the ball had already been brushed behind him. Ewing realized what was coming too late; the ball was perfectly set and Duke booted a clean shot into the left corner.

It was a thing of beauty.

Congrats went around after the goal, but Duke noticed the undercurrent of confusion. It had been the best play of the day, by far. Since when had Sebastian been able to pull something like that off? No one was going to comment on it, but he was glad to see the improvement was noticeable. Dinklage was watching too; Duke caught his eye and grinned.

'_You can't tell me _that_ wasn't great.' _

* * *

Duke was prepared to spend a fair amount of time with homework that evening. _Two Gentlemen of Verona _still required his attention for lit, but that could wait until tomorrow; chemistry was his most pressing concern. He _really _didn't want to have to ask Eunice for help, so the more he knew for tomorrow, the better.

His concentration was broken by a quiet rapping on the door. He narrowed his eyes at the door, as if glaring would silence it. No such luck.

"Just a minute." He pushed away from the desk, trying to determine who would interrupt him now. Toby, Andrew, and all of his other friends would pound on the door and yell until he opened it, and Sebastian had his own key. Eunice, or even the occasional girl hell-bent on getting his phone number, would likely get stopped by Malcolm. The only other person he could imagine was Headmaster Gold, who had promised to "pop in" to see Sebastian. _'No, no, no, no, no. I have problems of my own. I _really _don't need to worry about when a very creepy old man will show up in my room.' _ He took a moment to pull a t-shirt on before walking to the door; the prospect of meeting the man shirtless was not at all appealing.

"Um…Sebastian's not here, and I'm really busy so-" Duke began the sentence as he opened the door halfway, but stopped himself when he looked up.

Olivia. A rather taken aback looking Olivia.

'_Dammit. What the hell am I saying? What's she even doing here? What do I do? I don't know how to handle this!...Be nice. Benice. Benicebenicebenice.'_

Olivia just stood looking as confused to him as he was to see her. "Olivia. Hey. I thought you were-um…Sorry."

She recovered quickly and stood on her toes to look over his shoulder. "Duke. Have you seen Sebastian around? A couple of guys down the hall told me he'd be here."

Of course. She was here for _Sebastian. _He saw red for a moment, but it didn't last. It wasn't as though he didn't know Sebastian would be speaking with her, and there could be a lot of reasons for her to show up like this. He'd spent so long trying to avoid her in chemistry, but maybe she wasn't any good in it either. Maybe she was just trying to get some help from her lab partner, and maybe they had that much in common. He'd do the same if he weren't avoiding Eunice like the plague. Or it was possible that Sebastian had asked to meet with her to convince her to go out with him. If that was the case, he'd probably be here any minute, and Duke didn't want him to lose the opportunity.

"Haven't seen him since practice ended." _'Be nice.' _"You want to come in?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and sighed. Hand on hips, she cocked her head and glared at him. "I can't believe you. Is that all you think about?" She shook her head and walked off.

Duke was too frustrated to call after her. Instead, he slammed the door shut and threw himself back in the chair. _'What the hell was that? Who the hell acts like that? I will _never _understand girls.'_ Olivia hadn't always been so quick to think the worst, but clearly things had changed. Sebastian would have his work cut out for him. For a moment, he wondered if it would even be worth his time to go out with her.

But that thought was ridiculous. Olivia had been his ideal woman for years. The goal of going out with her was finally within reach and now certainly wasn't the time to become hesitant. He hating not finishing what he started, and knew he'd feel disappointed with himself if he walked away now. Especially over some stupid hallway confrontation.

'_It's not like that's the point…if I didn't want Olivia anymore, I wouldn't care about dating her. I wouldn't.' _ He could admit, to himself, that said date may have taken on added importance after the rant he'd witnessed this summer. He'd set out to prove something, to her and himself, that he was something more than just a jock. That he could surpass her off-hand stereotype. It had seemed so out of character for her to say such a thing, but this most recent little scene seemed to prove that she really believed it. At least where he was concerned; Olivia clearly wasn't having any problem thinking more highly of Sebastian. He was probably guilty of the same thing; up till now, he'd been holding her up as some kind of paragon. She had faults too, like everyone else, and he'd ignored that until it was thrust in his face. If this was really going to work out, Duke just needed to…deal with it.

Wasn't that why he'd gotten Sebastian's help? If Sebastian hadn't been her lab partner, or even transferred here at all, would he have asked someone else? Or just cut his losses? And if that were the case, did that mean this was about getting to go out with Olivia or having the opportunity to prove to her that guys who play soccer aren't all bad? How different were those two things?

The whole thing gave him a headache. Not for the first time, he missed having someone close around that would listen to him bitch about this kind of stuff. He was sure that it would all make sense if he could just get it all out.

Duke had a sudden distaste for chemistry now, so returning to studying had little appeal. Instead, he pulled out the literature assignment and tried to distract himself.

_He after honor hunts, I after love:  
He leaves his friends to dignify them more,  
I leave myself, my friends and all, for love.  
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me,  
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time,  
War with good counsel, set the world at nought;  
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought._

- Proteus, _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, Act I

(William Shakespeare)

'_This is going to be a long semester...'_

Sebastian entered the room from God-knows-where less than an hour later. Duke was still feeling a little hostile towards Olivia, but not nearly enough to let his roommate forget about his end of their deal. Sebastian tossed his shoes and backpack to the ground without looking, but held onto his soccer ball carefully. "Hey man. You okay?"

Duke had moved from sitting at the desk laying flat on his bed, and didn't move a muscle as he responded tersely. "Have you talked to Olivia yet?" He didn't have any patience for drawn out conversation right now. Sebastian must have noticed, because he didn't give any of his usual nonsense chatter as he assumed a similar position on his own bed.

"Huh-uh. I didn't have any classes with her today. I'll put things in motion in chemistry tomorrow."

Duke nodded, but he was still staring at the ceiling and couldn't tell if Sebastian saw. "She, uh…came by looking for you earlier."

Sebastian sat up. "Here?" Duke nodded again, and knew he must have been seen when Sebastian responded. "That's weird. Did you two talk?"

"Not really." _'And yet, it still wasn't pretty.' _He could tell Sebastian what was going through his head, but that would require explaining a lot of other things and that felt like too much to ask at the moment. Maybe he telegraphed the thought, because Sebastian didn't press for details even though it was clear he wanted to.

Instead, all he did was nod once. "No worries. We'll get her to come around. It's not like I'm trying to convince her to go out with someone like _Malcolm._"

"_Anyone _is better than Malcolm."

Sebastian grinned and tossed Duke the ball. "Maybe I'll suggest that first. You'll look better by comparison."

Duke caught it on reflex. "Do it and I'll kick your ass."

* * *

The novelty of the starting school had worn out the next day; first days of class had past and now teachers were starting to pile on actual work. Everyone was looking forward to the weekend; the first since most of the student body returned. The fact that Thursday's and Friday's classes still remained was more of a chore than anything else.

Duke was equally dreading and anxious for chemistry to roll around as he sat through the rest of his classes. What if Sebastian couldn't convince her? What would happen if he did? How would he do it?

The man in question was leaning against the door to the classroom. He appeared engrossed in a notebook, but grabbed Duke by the arm to stop him from entering the room. "Stand here a minute." Sebastian held the notebook out between them, so they could both read whatever was in it. He immediately recognized the pages as his own lab notes he'd studied with the night before, but Duke couldn't figure out why Sebastian would be out here with them. He was positive he'd left the binder in their room that morning. "I have a plan. Olivia's last class is on the other side of campus. We need to wait for her."

Duke swallowed thickly. He had pretty much thought that Sebastian would talk to Olivia on his own, and hadn't really counted on being present. It felt sort of awkward now. How was he supposed to act? His panic was thankfully cut short when Sebastian hissed at him.

"Here she comes. Go with this." _'Go with what? Like I'm going to try and talk him out of this? Whatever the hell this is.' _Olivia, with Maria and Malcolm in tow, drew closer, and Sebastian began speaking again. "Aw, man." Sebastian leafed through a few more pages in the notebook. "I had all of this completely wrong. Thanks, you're a lifesaver." Then he handed Duke the binder and looked up, awaiting a response.

Olivia had slowed her walk, and was obviously lingering inside the door to try and listen. _'This is probably the first time she's ever wanted to listing to a thing I had to say.' _"Uh…no problem. Anything to help." The bell rang and the two boys entered the room. Sebastian gave Duke a thumbs up as Olivia walked with him to their station. _'What the hell was that supposed to prove? Sebastian had better have something way more effective than stealing my notes.' _

His own lab partner was now staring at him and sighing every few minutes; Duke couldn't decide if it was better or worse than Tuesday's creepiness. It didn't really matter, because today they were mixing chemicals and he'd be damned if he let that girl handle _anything._ He may not be a genius in the subject, but he was positive that he nothing he would do would kill them; Eunice he was not so certain about.

Sebastian and Olivia too, were all business. He was fortunate enough that he could see them both from where he stood, but still felt frustrated as the hour passed and Sebastian hadn't said another word on the dating subject. He finally just tried to concentrate on his own project, thinking maybe Sebastian just didn't want him to be so clearly watching. A commotion from the other side of the room, though, recaptured his attention.

"Shit!" Sebastian had definitely just poured everything they had into one beaker, and not-so-surprisingly with disastrous results. He was giving some sort of apology to Olivia- something about being hopeless in chemistry- but she was laughing it off. Duke thought it looked like a good moment to ask her; she was still laughing and that meant she was in a good mood, right?

He caught Sebastian's eye and gestured to Olivia. _'Talk to her, damn it. You said you would!'_ But Sebastian just gestured to the foamy mess before him as if it meant something, and then waved him off.

After lab ended, Duke wasted no time in dragging Sebastian back to the bench in the hall. "What the hell, man? I thought you were going to talk to-" He looked around, and then whispered the name, "_Olivia _today. Or were you too busy with the idiot routine?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Don't worry. I've got it covered. We've got to start with small steps."

'_And speaking of steps…'_ "Whatever. As long as you know what you're doing." If Sebastian had a plan to work things out eventually, he could live with that. Just as long as he did what said he would do. Out of habit, Duke checked his watch. "We gotta get to practice." The Olivia issue could wait. There were more important things to work on.

* * *

For the third time that week, the alarm went off that four-thirty the next morning. Having been out practicing dribbling until almost one, the sound was not particularly welcome to either boy in the room. Duke managed to roll himself to the edge of the bed and sit up, taking a deep breath. Fridays were always busy. Even more so this year, now that he was expected to meet with Dinklage too: Short morning practice, full slate of classes, short mid-day practice during break, then a meeting with Coach. And _then _his weekend could begin.

He could still feel the ache in his legs from running across the stadium so many times yesterday; he had still been annoyed at Sebastian and Olivia and spent the entire afternoon pounding stairs with more force than was probably absolutely necessary. Sebastian hadn't tried to speak to him, but stared at him in the locker room after practice as though he wanted to say something. A shower had helped clear his mind; it wasn't Sebastian's fault that Olivia was confusing as shit and determined to see only the worst in him. After dinner the two boys had returned to the field and Duke attempted to impart more goal scoring essentials until the early morning hours. Dinklage was keeping an eye out, but if Sebastian was to move up by the Cornwall game, he'd have to start showing off more than basics.

They didn't have practice on Saturday (since it was usually a gameday, though the rest of the league hadn't started school yet) and Friday afternoon workouts were subject to frequent absenteeism, so Dinklage instead squeezed every other free minute from the day.

At five sharp, the team had assembled for another round of drills. Once again, Duke was surprised when the coach called a halt to running and started scrimmages instead. He was almost positive that Dinklage was issuing a challenge to him. _'Fine. If that's what it takes, then I'll do him one better today. It's time to get some attention.'_ Today was going to be the day Sebastian showed his worth, whether he liked it or not.

He let Sebastian set up the play from the day before a few more times; but only nailed the goal once before changing to pass it to other players. Once it was clear that Ewing and the defenders were setting up for the handoff, Duke pulled Sebastian aside. "Next time you fake the breakaway, just keep going. Grillo won't know what hit him." The smaller boy started to protest, but Duke remained firm. He knew it was the right thing to do; Sebastian had been getting faster all week, and no one would be prepared to run him down anyway.

Just as Duke expected, the defenders were trying to cover a pass, and only Cohen managed a last-ditch effort at a steal. Ewing bit on a feint, and couldn't come back to cover Sebastian's kick before the ball sailed passed him. It was move that probably wouldn't work in a game, but it was a great read of defensive formation and turned all eyes to Sebastian.

Not that Sebastian seemed to need much help with that, at the moment. He had accepted the standard congrats modestly enough, but inexplicably starting dancing in the middle of the field. _'Clearly, he needs to start getting more sleep. This won't help his case with Dinklage…'_

Still, come game day, they would celebrate scoring with enough melee that dancing would probably be the least of it. If backflips and pile-ups were already common, then this didn't really add anything strange. Toby and Andrew, not ever requiring much reason to party, joined in almost immediately, and the rest of the team followed suit. It was surprisingly…_nice… _to have a minute of fun in what was usually a backbreaking practice. If you couldn't make an idiot of yourself in front of your teammates, then what was the world coming to?

Dinklage started to walk over from the sideline to restore order, but it wasn't really necessary. The second he was noticed, almost everyone backed off. Except, of course, Sebastian; he was either incredibly brave or daft to try and get the uptight coach in on the act. Maybe both.

'_Dinklage is going to kill me this afternoon.' _

Thankfully, practice ended soon after, with only a confused huff where an angry lecture usually occurred. No one was in a rush on Fridays; there was over an hour before class started, and the team was usually split on breakfast versus bed. They'd pay for shortened practice in a few hours; the second workout of the day would be outside near midday, when the blistering heat was at its worst.

Duke knew that going back to sleep would be impossible, but wasn't shocked when Sebastian elected for another hour's shuteye. He might crack without it. Andrew and Toby followed him to the cafeteria for breakfast, also too well adapted to morning practice to settle in again.

Toby fixed him with a curious look as they sat down. "So when did Sebastian decide to stop sucking so much?"

Duke remained impassive; one of his finer skills. "He's been working on it. He wanted to get better and I offered to help." Toby and Andrew shared a look.

Andrew, to the shock of no one, made the actual comment. "_Why_? We've already got a team full of returning starters. You can't tell me you want to replace someone. 'Cause that's what'll happen if you keep this up. He's a great guy and all, we know. But he _did _skip out on initiation. He's not looking out for the team. And we all saw Sebastian at tryouts; he didn't even care."

"Well now he does. Maybe it's worthwhile to remind everyone that there's no slacking off. We'll need everyone at their best to beat Cornwall, and if that means playing Hastings then we should play Hastings." _'Christ, I'm starting to sound just like Dinklage.'_

Andrew shrugged, but Toby didn't look convinced. "You're the boss."

* * *

Sebastian had once again impressed Duke with his fortitude.

Toby, obviously still harboring some hard feelings about Sebastian's potential rise to first string, took advantage of Friday's afternoon practice hour to make him suffer for it.

Toby couldn't have known it was going to happen, but Dinklage had picked their least favorite drill possible to cap off the week: Under Pressure. It wasn't the most difficult thing they did, but inevitably made anyone in the middle look something like a gerbil running helplessly around a wheel. Duke held no special love for it either, but smiled when Sebastian was tapped for a turn in the center. If he'd been in the group with most of the other (less accurate) second stringers, it would be obvious that the move was meant as punishment. But with most of the starters around him, it could only mean that Dinklage was interested in how he would fare.

Toby wasted no time in trying to knock Sebastian down a notch. He showed enough concern and all to avoid being blamed, but Duke knew he was good enough to avoid nailing the guy in the family jewels unless it had been his intention. It was an act saved for special occasions, but there _had_ been a general feeling that Sebastian deserved _something_ for ruining their 'welcome night', Duke knew, and maybe this would even the score. It was painful to watch, but just a little bit satisfying.

But Sebastian had only taken a moment or so to moan in pain, and then jumped right back in to practice as normal, waiving off any kind of assistance. Moreover, he even seemed like he was in a good mood as they left to head for chemistry. Duke couldn't imagine it.

"So, I thought about it, and you may be right." Sebastian started as the pulled their lab coats out. "I don't think Olivia is really getting the subtle thing. I'll be a little more direct today. Try to look…cute. I'll have you halfway in by the end of class."

"_What?_" Cute? That sounded like he was a four year old girl, or a puppy or something. He was _not_ cute. Sebastian rolled his eyes and huffed is response.

"Fine. Not cute. Hot. Good looking. Friendly. Whatever. Just smile and look pretty." That was a little more like it. Sort of.

"I can do that." _'I can do that, right? What does that involve? Smiling. A lot? A little?'_ Smiling at all was a tall order when he approached the table to find an eviscerated piglet pinned to a tray and Eunice enthusiastically removing brightly colored innards. _'It wouldn't bother me nearly as much if she just didn't have so much fun hacking it up.'_

On top of that, Malcolm was making a round through the room, handing out flyers. Duke made a point to ignore his approach, but he walked up to them undaunted.

"What do you want, Malcolm?" Olivia would probably notice him today. Nothing, not even the knowing smirk on Malcolm's face, was going to get to him.

"I don't want to _panic _you or anything," He put on an overly concerned look, and Duke was proud of himself for not punching the twit, "But you might like to know that Malvolio is on the loose. So, you know, I thought you'd be a good person to help me. If I hear you bawling like a baby, I'll know where to look."

Duke quickly checked over his shoulder; Olivia and Sebastian were busy looking at the worksheet. "Get bent, Malcolm."

Eunice was busy studying the flyer. "Is this a Psalmopoeus cambridgei? I _love_ those." Malcolm smirked and made a show of turning to face the other side of the classroom. Eunice returned to mincing pig heart without comment.

"I think I'll go give Olivia a heads up too." Duke just shook his head. At least he wasn't _that _deluded. He kept an eye on the interaction, smiling when she clearly shot him down. A chance to date Olivia _and _witness Malcolm getting blown off; class was already shaping up pretty well. He felt surprisingly relaxed given the fact that he might get a date with the girl of his dreams today, and gave Sebastian the go ahead wave before he lost his nerve. _'Damn it Sebastian, you'd better not avoid it again today.' _ But Sebastian almost immediately leaned in and gave some sort of gesture in his direction; Duke thought he saw Sebastian say his name, but wasn't close enough to tell for sure. _'I should have gotten closer. I would give anything to hear what he's saying._' Sebastian made a motion between their tables, still speaking to Olivia. But, wonder of wonders, she turned for a moment and glanced at him. Sebastian could work miracles. _'I should smile. A lot? No! Too much. Be subtle. Be _nice._' _ He was having difficulty forcing the smile down; this was more attention than he'd gotten from Olivia in three years. He bit his lip to try and keep from looking like an idiot, but knew it was a losing battle. He turned back to his work (or rather, watching Eunice julienne the poor animal), determined not to look up again.

He strained his ears, but still couldn't pick up the conversation. Olivia was smiling though, so that had to be a good sign, right? She was shaking her head, but not knowing the context of the move made it hard to judge.

"No!" The exclamation and bright laughter caught the attention of everyone in the room, but Olivia didn't seem to care. Unfortunately, she still lowered her voice once more.

If Sebastian really _was _suggesting a date with Malcolm, he was going to get his ass kicked, Unless it worked, and then Duke figured he'd let it slide. The two of them were still looking in his direction, but he didn't risk meeting her eyes again and making himself look even more ridiculous. He was largely successful until a madly swaying object in the center of the room went crashing down with a helpless, heavy thud- it had a dying fall.

Sebastian was out cold in the middle of classroom. The teacher had sat herself down next to him, trying to coax him back to awareness, but didn't get a response. Just as she was about to dispatch a student to get the nurse, he twitched and opened an eye.

"How's m'hair?" Sebastian groaned, tone entirely serious. A few people laughed, and Duke and Andrew approached to help him to his feet. He only needed a few minutes to get steady, face red and apologizing for the disruption. Yet again, Duke wondered if Sebastian wasn't trying to hide some sort of injury or condition. He seemed like he'd been just fine in practice lately; even to the point of making significant improvement. _'I really do need to ask him about that. Maybe I'm putting him through too many extra hours.'_ Their additional practice could take a toll on anyone. If they had more time until the Cornwall game, he'd say the smart thing to do would be back off for a little, but it would be hard under the current circumstances. _'I'll scale down the extra stuff; make sure he's sleeping more. Just one more week and then everything's back to normal.'_

The teacher sent Sebastian off to the infirmary shortly thereafter, but no one really put too much effort into their dissection for the rest of class. Sebastian's tableau would be all over the school by tonight.

* * *

He wanted to check on Sebastian after class, but didn't have time before his scheduled meeting with Dinklage.

The walk to the office filled him with a jumbled mix of emotions. On one hand, he hadn't had a real conversation with the coach since before the escapade with the fire alarm, but practice seemed have been going well this week, so maybe things were looking up. This would be a good chance to push for Sebastian's move upwards.

The door was open, so Duke just rapped against the wall and stepped inside. "Hi, Coach."

"Duke. Take a seat." Dinklage pushed aside several papers and folded his hands on the desk. "We've had quite a week to open the year." The tone was even, and Duke couldn't tell what direction this was going. He only nodded in response. "It seems like this week has lasted much longer than five days. There have been a lot of ups and downs. It's been made even more difficult by the fact that we open against Cornwall. That hasn't happened in some time. We don't have a lot of time to make huge changes, and there's no way to know who will step up for the game. It'll be very risky to start someone new."

So Dinklage had recognized his plan. It wasn't as though it was a secret or anything, though he had honestly thought the coach would be willing to reward improvement. Even for the Cornwall game. He didn't often contradict Dinklage, yet now couldn't stay silent. He wanted to win almost more than anything, but this didn't seem right.

"Coach-" _'Forget Cornwall, Sebastian and Olivia. There's no point in trying to get anyone to work harder if this is how things go.' _He had set out to prove he could be a good leader for the team, but somewhere along the line it had become just as important to help his teammates. "I know the Cornwall game is important, but that doesn't always mean the guys who were good last year are still good. Or that anyone who's new can't do better." _'That was straightforward enough, right?'_

"You think so?" Dinklage's eyes narrowed at the corner; Duke couldn't tell if it was hiding a glare or smile. "Did you have someone specific in mind?"

He was definitely being baited. Maybe Dinklage was trying to make him play favorites. The fact that he'd already chosen one didn't matter; Duke had a feeling that great leaders didn't publicize that kind of thing. "I think everyone deserves a fair shot if they've proven themselves, sir."

Dinklage leaned back in his chair and fixed him with a serious look. "Feldman hasn't been up to his last year's standard."

Duke hid the wince. He had hoped that Feldman's early poor showing was just nerves, but he hadn't been improving much. Though he had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, he really wasn't willing to keep defending him for no reason. He wanted to recommend that Sebastian could take his spot, but Feldman was usually a left fielder, and Sebastian wasn't fast enough to play so wide. They both knew it. It was one thing to make a guy good enough to play, and very much another to play him if he wasn't.

Duke exhaled with a nod. "I noticed."

"I'm speaking with Feldman later this afternoon. I'll be moving up Haimes to take his place." Haimes was good, and Duke couldn't argue the decision, even if he'd wanted to. There was only one thing that confused him.

"Why tell me this?"

"You're the captain; you should know what's going on with the personnel. And I thought you'd like to know anyway." A pause as Dinklage glanced at the clock, "Do you have anything else you want to bring up for the week?"

'_Hazing, stairs, friends, enemies; just you're average opening week at Illyria' _Duke shook his head. "No, sir." _'No, nothing. I'll just sit here and listen as you tell me about not wanting to bump up newbies, then totally rub the fact that I didn't make one good enough for you in my face.' _

"See you Monday, then." Duke rose from the chair, but when he reached the door, Dinklage continued. "A week is a long time. It's getting better; keep at it."

* * *

End part 3

The next chapter will have all the stuff you guys have been waiting for: the carnival and meeting between Duke and Viola. Plus a bunch of other good stuff. Chapter 5 _should _be a little shorter (of course, I said that about Chapter 3, too) so I'll try to have everything caught up very soon.

Egad! This is the mother-load of notes. I just wanted to explain some things that some people may not know and want details on (feel free to skip if you want!):

I was so flattered by an email request I got to clarify what stuff from the initiation I pulled from the movie scene and what I made up! It makes me unbelievably happy that people are hunting down my details;-) It occurred to me when I replied with the "answers" that some others might want to know too, so I though I'd also post my list with this part. Some of you already found these things, but here's what I took:

All the costume descriptions

The soccer ball with signatures (if you freeze frame, you can see there's some writing on the ball in the staff)

The book

The paddles (hanging on the back of the shower wall, some of the players grab them when the alarm goes off)

And also the fact that everyone else seems to have a practice uniform except Sebastian/Viola. If she had one, I would think she'd wear it with long sleeves underneath, like she does the actual jersey.

Regarding the schedule mentioned in this chapter: The only schedule I've ever seen a high-school keep in which any classes are every other day (as Duke claims in the movie) worked out such that 90 minute classes were held Monday through Thursday (with one schedule for Monday/Wednesday and one for Tuesday/Thursday) and 40 minute classes on Friday with every class from both days. There are also a few schools that I've seen use an hour on Fridays as a 'social hour' that sets aside time for involvement in extra curriculars like student government or clubs or whatever other activities a student participates in- in this case, a short soccer practice. Since this schedule meshes with my timeline and suits the movie really well, I pretty much combined them. It seems like the type of thing a fancy school like Illyria might do;-)

About the last soccer practice: I think the drill they are doing in this scene is one I know as "Under Pressure" (because it's essentially ten on one), but I'm sure it goes by different names in different places. If I have it right, it's usually a drill done with a goalie in the middle (but a defender, obviously, works too), and the rest of the players have the option of 'passing' or 'attacking'. That is, one can pass to another player on their side of the circle, or try to shoot 'through' the defender to a player on the opposite side. The idea is to pass accurately, but more quickly than the goalie/defender can adapt (unless you're the defender, it which case the point is to not let anything get past you or to steal the ball during sloppy passes).

And finally, about positions: I know in the movie Viola says she is a center forward, but the DVD pop-up trivia calls her a midfielder, which is usually a little different. The fact that Duke (a striker) is helping her by showing more goal-scoring type of skills would seem to indicate center forward (which some systems consider synonymous with striker), but a lot of the playing footage looks more like midfielder stuff to me. Logically I should split the difference and make her an offensive/attack midfielder (which sort of combines some of the responsibilities of the two positions), but I'm trying not to commit her to something specific. I am, however, making the assumption that if she plays multiple positions, she'd stick to center forward or center midfielder (whether she's in an attacking formation or not) and not play to the side. It's been quite awhile since last I played and even then I wasn't great at it. But I do make every effort to make the soccer in this fic accurate, so if you think any of the drills, positions, or descriptions are wrong, let me know!


	4. We'll Settle This All

Play On

Ok, ok. The chapter everyone had been waiting for has arrived. I appreciate everyone's enduring patience while I wrestled with this part. I got feedback on the original draft that Olivia and Duke both came off as vindictive, so much so that some minor attempts to change things just made the story suffer and added confusion. The whole chapter was bagged and started from scratch. These are such important scenes that I didn't want to put out anything sub-par. This part is actually only half of the original planned chapter four. Otherwise it would have taken another few weeks to get out and would be in the area of 25,000 words long! I'm still re-writing the post carnival dorm scene in light of the new carnival scene;-)

I can't tell you how much I appreciate the fact that people have kept reading and commenting; I encourage everyone to give me there thoughts and questions! If you're uncomfortable leaving a review, please feel free to message me from the author's page. I try my best to respond, and knowing what things aren't made clear or don't make sense is always helpful. I aim for a rigorous editing process, but my main editor knows my outline and where this is all going, and I, of course, have seen this all in my head as my very own movie;-) We don't always understand what it's like not to understand. To err is human…

The list of things I don't own continues- everything from the previous parts, plus Oprah, Dr. Phil, Calvin Klein, Cyrano de Bergerac, Tom Sawyer, and the phrases I lifted directly from Twelfth Night, Robert Frost and indirectly from Indiana Jones. More bonus points to anyone who can pick them out for all you scavenger-hunt enthusiasts out there;-). Maybe by the end of this fic we'll have one of those 'Where's Waldo' style checklists of things to find;-)

Play On

Chapter 4

_The goalkeeper is the jewel in the crown and getting at him should be almost impossible. It's the biggest sin in football to make him do any work_. – George Graham.

_If a player is not interfering with play or seeking to gain an advantage, then he should be_. – Bill Shankly

Duke figured Sebastian would be back from the nurse by the time he returned to the room, but surprisingly found it empty. Normally, on a Friday night, he would call around and find out if anything interesting was going on; first weekend back was sure to inspire some decent celebration. But this evening he was dying to find out what had happened with Sebastian and Olivia, and it seemed worth his time to hang around until the guy returned and then go out.

An hour later, Duke had given up the idea that he would be going out that night and forced himself to do something useful while he waited for Sebastian. He'd tried the boy's cell phone with frustrating results- a recording that the subscriber was unavailable, and his text message bounced back- and the infirmary wouldn't tell him anything. Toby and Andrew decided to meet up with a few others for a run to Cesario's, but Duke declined, citing a higher priority tonight.

TV sucked; he didn't feel like going through his music or stack of PS2 games. That only left staring at the ceiling and homework. Neither was extremely appealing. Duke was spared the lesser of two evils when the trill of the phone broke into the room. Caller ID showed the number for the payphone a few blocks from school. That could be anyone from a wrong number to one of his friends locking keys in their car.

"Hello?" There was a quick intake of breath on the other end, as though whoever was there hadn't really expected someone to pick up.

"Oh..uh, hi." Definitely a girl. "Um...I was just trying to leave a message for myse- my brother. Sebastian. My brother Sebastian." The Cornwall Sister. She was stumbling over her words, sounding entirely uncomfortable talking to him. Duke felt the same way; he _really _didn't want to talk to anyone who though dating Justin Drayton was a good idea. Why hadn't she just called her brother's cell?

"I'm Sebastian's roommate. He's not around right now. You're probably best off to try his cell phone." She had a pretty voice, he had to admit. But _her_ awkwardness wasn't making him feel any better, and this whole conversation was probably going to go downhill really fast. He didn't have a great track record for things like that. Best to keep it short.

"Yeee-ah. See, I was going to leave him a voicemail or send a text or something, but there's nothing left on his cell until next week so it's useless. Too many international collect calls." Pause; there was a faint muttered curse about running away from home and payphones and London. "Which is why I'm calling here. Can you write down some flight information for me? Sebastian's- _friend_- is coming back from England in a week and I know he'd want to know what time the flights gets in, so he can…be in the right place for that. I want to make sure I get it down somewhere before I forget. I don't have anything to write with on me, and everyone else I could call is at the beach." A very pretty voice and a pretty laugh. But, like her brother, very strange.

"I guess so. Sure" It was probably the easiest way to put an end to the conversation. She rattled off a Virgin Atlantic flight number and arrival time in New York, and he copied it down to a Post-It note on Sebastian's desk. "I'll make sure he gets it when he gets back." The thought struck him that he didn't really know if Sebastian would be back soon, or if the nurse would even want him to stay in the infirmary. "I don't know how long that will be. He passed out earlier went to the nurse. He said he was okay, but now I'm not sure how serious it was."

The Sister giggled somewhat hysterically. Not exactly the reaction of a concerned sibling. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Thanks Duke. You're… really nice." _'How am I supposed to respond to that? That's supposed to be good. Nice is good. But hearing it said out loud sounds so…lame.'_

"I am? Thanks...I guess." _'Is that right?' _ "Does he do that sort of thing a lot?" He could pry the whole story out of Sebastian later, but he'd never really volunteered a lot of information about himself. If Duke could get Sebastian's sister to fill in some medical history gaps, he might have a better idea how to handle the extra practice hours and training.

"Well…I guess not? No, not really. He's very tough. Gr! Manly. So…thanks for the message, I should go." The Sister abruptly hung up, leaving Duke feeling confused. For one thing, despite the fact that neither one of them seemed entirely comfortable, the conversation didn't go all that poorly.

But mostly, he was put out over the fact that she clearly knew his name and couldn't believe he'd never though to ask hers.

* * *

He took a quick shower and changed into sweats, determined to finish off his chemistry so that _tomorrow_ at least, he could go have some fun. The silence was peaceful, and he slightly resented the interruption when Sebastian walked into the room.

"Okay, who's your daddy?" Maybe a little more than slightly. And maybe Sebastian had taken a harder hit to the head than he'd thought.

"Huh?" That seemed like sort of thing Sebastian might say to one of his girls. A little awkward and a little graphic; something not quite vulgar but definitely not the way to start a conversation. Duke had no idea what he was talking about or where it was going. Sebastian, thankfully, had been less and less prone to his useless chatter these days. He clarified with exactly what Duke wanted to hear.

"I got her to agree to consider you," The last 'her' Duke had contact with was The Cornwall Sister. For a split second, and only a second, he thought Sebastian was trying to set him up with his sister. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant notion, and the thought made him pause. _'No way am I going there again.'_ "You're halfway in, man!"

'_Oh, shit. Olivia. Olivia!' _All other thoughts were immediately forgotten. This was tangible progress, the likes which he hadn't seen since…well, ever. Olivia was thinking about going out with him, in a realistic, actual, genuine way. His imagination was running wild with possibility, and he couldn't keep up well enough to say anything coherent.

The only problem, of course, was that halfway was not all the way. But he was too excited by the news to worry about it. She was thinking about it, right? So maybe it was just time to act. "Should I ask her out?" All this scheming and waiting was getting to him.

Sebastian clearly thought the question was ridiculous. _'Of course he would. He's all about the plans.'_ "No! You don't want to freak her out."

Duke was pretty sure that he didn't freak Olivia out. If anything, she seemed to only get…louder…around him. And more opinionated. _'Do girls freak out about that kind thing? _Is _that how girls freak out?' _He didn't know. Sebastian acted like having a chat with a girl was easy (and for him, it probably was) but Duke knew that if it were up to him to close the 'halfway' gap with conversation, he was sunk.

He fell back into his chair, defeated. This was _exactly_ what he wanted to avoid, and why he'd recruited Sebastian to help.

"Why do I get the feeling you don't do this very often?" The question was softer than his previous statements; less accusation and more curiosity. He still didn't have a clear picture why they had made their little deal.

"I'm just…"Duke tried to think of the simplest terms he could put things in. Eventually he'd probably have to spill the whole story, and probably also have to confess to using Sebastian's desperation to play to benefit his own position as well, but he hoped to put all of that off until he'd secured the date. _'It's not like I'm lying to him. I'll tell him everything eventually.' _"I'm not really good at talking to girls." It was the truth. Self-consciousness was ultimately the cause of his failure to ask Olivia out before this summer. And the cause of his inability to correct things himself.

"Why? You're _hot._" Sebastian made the statement with so much authority that Duke snapped his head up to look at him. First thing after the Cornwall game, they would have to ban him from hanging out with girls for awhile. Off his look, Sebastian spouted some sort of gibberish that sounded like it came from Oprah or Dr. Phil or something. Appealing guy-man, indeed. Where the hell did he get this stuff? Sebastian must have realized how he sounded since the comment was followed by a cringe, and Duke felt for him. They both clearly had the same problem.

"I just always say the wrong thing." Only he did it with girls, and Sebastian seemed to do it around guys. Go figure.

Sebastian either recognized that fact, or was somehow inspired by it. He jumped up with some kind of role-playing exercise idea. Duke, however, was more than a little skeptical. This sounded exactly like the kind of thing the quack his mother saw every Tuesday would do. During the summer divorce, she'd dragged Duke along 'to discuss his feelings on the matter' despite the fact that they'd only been married four months and Duke had been at school for three of them. He'd met the latest husband all of six times, including the wedding, and spent four weeks on a couch convincing the over-important pair that he wasn't maladjusted in any way. He thought they were welcome to their belief as long he didn't have to pretend a therapist he barely knew was the step-dad he barely knew to 'get his anger out'. His only real contribution to any session was being able to wrap an arm around his mother when she inevitably burst into tears.

So the last way he wanted to spend his Friday night was indulging Sebastian's weird game. It felt like homework. Plus, if anyone heard about this he'd never hear the end of it. "Do I have to?"

He probably would have put up more resistance, but Sebastian put on the most uncannily accurate girl voice he ever heard, and it threw him. He didn't know who the hell Viola was, but she had a very pretty voice. If Duke wasn't staring at the source at that exact moment, he'd probably even say that it belonged to a very pretty girl. In fact, Sebastian sounded just like…

"I used to imitate my sister all the time. I got really good at it. Get up!" Sebastian's attempt at being forceful following the girly voice brought out a chuckle as Duke relented and stood. It would probably be easiest just to get his over with, even though he found it almost impossible to show the same seriousness his roommate did.

Sebastian's instructions put Duke in mind of himself on the soccer field hours earlier: trying to simplify everything without losing anything important. Ask questions. Have chemistry. Flow.

"Questions about what?" He made a point to try and demonstrate everything he tried to teach Sebastian, because he knew that just telling someone what to do rarely changed anything.

"Anything." _'Like that helps.'_ Sebastian seemed to recognize that this didn't offer much and tried to come up with a suggestion. "Ask me if…I like…_cheese._" Cyrano he was not. It was absolutely ridiculous, but Sebastian looked totally serious, as though cheese would sweep every girl off her feet. Doing his best to keep a straight face, and failing, Duke tried to repeat the question.

The hot-creepy girl voice answered him. "Why yes I do; my favorite's gouda!"

Once again, Sebastian gave him a look that insisted he respond somehow, accompanied by a faux-girlie hand gesture. He had nothing. "Uh…I like gouda too?" Duke determined that he was done with the stupid game as Sebastian got all geeked up about their cheesy commonality. He tried to explain that, but Sebastian would have none of it.

"Flow is flow." The smaller boy slapped him. _Again!_ It was probably something a girl might do, but _still_. This was the weirdest exchange he'd ever had, and couldn't imagine ever having it with Olivia. Olivia would give him the same look she had a million times before: a what-you-said-made-no-sense-and-I-wouldn't-care-anyway look. He tried to picture the real owner of the voice ('_was she really named Viola?_') standing it in front of him, having a similar conversation. Would she think it was stupid or just funny? Her laugh echoed through his head; he could feel his feet start to tingle as he thought about it. It gave him pause; _that_ had never happened before. _'What the hell? She's just a stupid voice! That's all!' _He'd never even met the girl.

He looked down at the offending foot, trying to clear his head, and panic struck.

Spiders. It _had_ to be spiders.

A fat, hairy, disgusting, _creepy_ spider. The stuff his nightmares were made of and it had _touched_ him!

The next several moments were a hazy rush of panic as he dashed to put as much space between himself and that….thing…as possible. He was vaguely aware of Sebastian doing the same. Every step the horrible creature took caused him to squirm, and before he knew it he'd retreated upwards to his bed.

Shouts filled the small room; Duke figured he was probably responsible for some of them, but couldn't focus on anything more than keeping his distance from the mutant spider. Sebastian, whether it was just his nature or conscious intention Duke didn't know, let loose a serious of girly-sounding keens. It probably spoke to his poor state of mind that he didn't even consider the source as he wrapped an arm around the smaller boy out of habit. He sounded like his mother. The embrace lasted until the many-legged thing rounded the corner of the door (thank God Sebastian had left it open!) and then reality sank back in.

'_What the _hell_ are we _doing_?'_

Another series of shouts colored the air, and Duke jumped for the door. The move had a twofold purpose; it put plenty of space between the two boys, and also ensured that the stupid spider wouldn't wander back in. _'Goddamn stupid bugs messing with my head.'_

Sebastian had made a similar move in the opposite direction, and looked just as unsettled as Duke felt. _'He should feel bad! This is entirely his fault.'_ Duke disliked showing vulnerability. He especially disliked showing it in front of others. And if Sebastian hadn't put on his weird creepy-hot voice, Duke never would have been distracted long enough to not notice a gigantic spider crawling through the room.

It was time lay down the law on such a thing _ever_ happening again. "You…You don't ever, _ever_ do that girl voice again. It…freaked me out!"

"My bad." Tension was still thick, and the shrill ring of the phone made them both jump. Duke chided himself for overreacting yet again as Sebastian's mother identified herself on the machine. He was turning into wuss!

Sebastian looked about as happy to hear from his mom as Duke usually was, so he decided to cut the guy a break and change to subject. Sebastian's mom continued to ramble on, and Duke's attention was caught by her mention of the carnival tomorrow. If his mom was also nagging him and his sister to show up, that probably meant…

"Wait…your mom's in Junior League?" _'So Sebastian has to go as well. That'll give him the perfect excuse to help me out with Olivia while we're there!'_

"Yeah…How'd you know?" It was a little weird, Duke felt, that they'd never met before last week. With one notable exception, he wasn't close to most of the kids of his mother's friends. He had, however, been pretty confident that he could recognize almost all of their sons by sight from years of communal misery at various functions.

"So's mine. I gotta go too."

Sebastian continued to rant about having to attend, and Duke was partly glad to hear that he was taking their soccer practices so seriously. The part of him that remembered shoveling the guy down to the infirmary only hours ago thought that a break would do him a world of good.

"It's not going to be _that _bad." The carnival really was one of the better events the Stratford JL put on. And unlike the deb stuff, it was for a good cause, so he didn't like to complain about it too much. This year, though, gained special appeal as he thought of his own mother's reminder. "Olivia's going to be there. It's the perfect opportunity for me to lay some groundwork." A place with a lot going on, and surely there would be something to talk about. Plus, Sebastian would be around to help.

"Oh, _Olivia's_ going to be there. And my sister. And Monique. And you. And my mom. _Great._" The list and the tone did nothing but confirm Duke's almost constant thought: Sebastian had way too many women in his life.

Duke straddled his desk chair, resting his arms over the back, and shook his head slightly. This required a moment to appreciate the irony. It really shouldn't be his job to fix _Sebastian's _girl problems, of all things. Still, he was getting awfully uptight about absolutely nothing. "Would you relax? Andrew and Toby are meeting me tomorrow. You should come with us. I'm sure Andrew will be thrilled to flirt with your crazy-ass ex until she can't take it anymore. And if your mom is working, she'll be busy. You don't get along with your sister?" She had seemed thoughtful enough, calling to give him a message about his friend.

"It's not like that. It's just...hard to be in the same place with her right now? There's a lot of stuff going on with her, and our mom. I can't really explain." Sebastian fell backward onto his bed, but continued speaking in a much more relaxed manner. "Normally we get along great even though we're total opposites. Our parents split up last year, but we always know that we can count on each other to be there. We'd do just about anything for each other."

"That's cool. Is your sister coming out this year?" It might be useful to know one of other debs. At the very least, she probably knew Olivia. A man inside, so to speak.

"Yeah. Oh shit! _She's_ got to work somewhere tomorrow too!" Sebastian pulled a pillow over his head and continued to mumble into it. Duke wonder if the nurse had shot him up with some kind of painkiller earlier. He was either on something or needed to be. Clearly the whole carnival thing was causing him to stress out. Maybe if he had something else to focus on besides his own girl problems.

"So, what can I ask Olivia about that won't freak her out?" _'Something besides cheese.'_

But Sebastian was now a little frustrated, and the distraction failed. "Look, I don't really know what makes her tick. And no girl wants to feel like what you're saying to her is something from a worksheet. If the two of you are meant to be, then she'll talk to you too. You don't want things to be totally one-sided anyway." Duke heaved a sigh from his chair in response. Sebastian's eyes focused on the slight movement carefully. "Maybe what you need is some live practice."

Duke started at the suggestion. "Do you want your ass kicked? I'm not pretending you're a chick ever again."

An eye-roll accompanied the response. "No! I mean maybe you need to have a successful casual conversation with a girl who isn't Olivia first, and then, y'know, work up."

The idea had some merit, Duke supposed, if for no other reason than that he wouldn't have to listen to Sebastian play the girl anymore. Talking to a girl at the carnival, even if it were a disaster, would at least give him a little insight into what girls talked about at carnivals before he spoke to Olivia. Maybe he could talk to Sebastian's sister again; she probably even knew Olivia. "Yeah…Yeah, I might do that."

As he moved away from his desk, Duke caught sight of the brightly colored square next to him. "Oh, hey. I forgot to tell you. Your sister called earlier and left a flight number for you. One of your friends is coming back from England."

* * *

His ability to wake up early for practice notwithstanding, Duke usually slept in on weekends. However, faced with the mighty potential of the carnival, he awoke before his alarm even went off. When Sebastian rolled over to silence the thing twenty minutes later, he found Duke staring at his closet, unmoving, with a perplexed look on his face.

"Man, what are you doing?"

"How should I look? That kind of thing is important to girls, right?" He normally didn't put too much thought into what he wore on weekends, but today felt like some sort effort was going to be required.

Sebastian answered with a yawn and another eyeroll. "However you would normally look. Don't try so hard. You don't want to look like a super-pretentious moron. Don't wear anything pink or purple."

"Why the hell would I even own anything like that?" Duke was pretty sure he had his clothing from last year's Pink Tie Ball around somewhere, but wasn't about to mention that. It hadn't been his idea anyway. He pushed several shirts aside in search of something that seemed suitable. "I have no idea what I'm doing." Finally, and with a very put-out huff, Sebastian swung out of bed and marched over to the closet. Without a word he yanked two articles of clothing out of the dresser. He pushed the items into Duke's hands, with a terse "Here. You're making this way too difficult."

He regarded the clothes for a moment. Plain white t-shirt, plain jeans. "This is what your brilliant experience comes up with?"

"It's classic. You'll look like a Calvin Klein ad." The only Calvin Klein ad Duke could think of involved Brooke Shields and no underwear. He certainly wasn't about to go that far.

His cell phone chirped from the desk with a new message- no doubt from his mother- that Duke promptly ignored. Sebastian gave him a curious look. "Aren't you going to get that?"

Duke gave a quick look. "No. I'm in too good of a mood to talk to my mom right now."

"You don't talk a lot about your family."

"There's not much too it. Me and my mom, and most days it doesn't even seem like that much." _'And some days it's too much as it is.'_

"Yeah, I don't talk to my parents much either." Sebastian looked up and caught Duke's eye, sharing a look of understanding. For a moment, Duke felt like he tell Sebastian almost anything and get that same look. Guilt sat heavily in his chest and he was just about to unravel all his motivation when a loud knock on the door ended the moment.

"Are you guys up yet? We're almost ready to leave." Andrew's muffled voice came from the other side. Sebastian opened the door and excused himself to the bathroom as Andrew stepped in. He gave Duke a quick glance and raised an eyebrow. "Going for the CK look?"

Duke didn't have anything in his hands to throw, so he settled for a glare. "Shut up." Andrew merely looked amused.

"I wanted to know if you're going to ride with us. Weather channel says there might be rain later." Duke had been hoping to take his bike; it was a solid twenty minute drive out to the fairgrounds and he'd been itching to get the Ducati out on an open stretch of road. He glanced out the window at the gathering clouds.

"I'll risk it. If it looks really bad, maybe I'll ride back with you. I think Sebastian needs a ride."

Andrew nodded, and then grinned. "Haimes is pulling a shift there this afternoon as clown. He got the full volunteer assignment list this morning and guess what's on it? Your highly-esteemed counterpart from across the city will be manning the dunk toss today. It's a Cornwallian nightmare in the making. I can't wait."

* * *

Duke managed to find an empty slice of glass near the main entrance at the fairgrounds for his Ducati, and watched in amusement as Andrew was forced to make several laps around the parking area before securing a spot near the back of the lot for his SUV. It was surprisingly crowded considering it was still fairly early, but then the Stratford JL was well known for putting on a good event. Unwilling to face the music alone, he loitered aimlessly near the gate until the three other boys approached.

"Dunk toss!" Andrew wasted no time on locating what was probably going to be the highlight of the day for the Illyrian soccer team. Although Duke knew he'd probably join in eventually, he also figured this would be a good time to try Sebastian's 'practice conversation' idea. Maybe he could even find a girl who looked a little like Olivia, so it would be almost like the real thing. A likely candidate caught his attention to his left. She had a pretty smile, and long blond hair, and even her face was a dead ringer for…_'Oh shit. I can't believe I've run into her already. I haven't even walked ten feet. What the hell am I going to talk to her about?' _He was going to throttle Sebastian if anything about cheese came out of his mouth.

"Alright, I'm gonna tell you the truth. I never really liked carnivals." _'Color me stunned. You ass, did you have to say that right in front of Olivia?' _Duke wasn't even sure if Olivia heard the remark or was even going to acknowledge them until…

"Hey!" He hoped she wasn't going to take offense. He knew a lot of Junior Leaguers set life and death by their events, and knowing his luck, Olivia would blame him for bringing Sebastian to someplace he hated. _'Of course, it would never be _Sebastian's _fault. Hell, she'd probably offer to show him around.' _ Thankfully, Olivia either ignored or didn't hear it. "I'm working the kissing booth. Come see me?" She wet her lips with her tongue once again, giving him a delicious smile. The look was accompanied by an elegant lift of her eyebrow as she half turned to face him, her eyes practically glowing. Moreover, she was looking _straight at him_, standing only inches away. Duke felt his mouth go dry.

His hand grasped her wrist, completing her spin all the way against him. He leaned down and closed the distance to her lips, leaning her back over his arm dramatically. Whistles and applause were scattered vaguely in the background. But then he blinked and the momentary vision was over; Olivia hadn't even stopped walking as she continued to her destination.

Still, she had clearly invited him to kiss her, no mistaking it. There was promise in the air. "I love carnivals, man."

So, he had no idea what he should say to start the perfect conversation. He did, however, know what needed above all else: tickets! No way was he going to miss this opportunity. It wasn't like Olivia would have agreed to work at the kissing booth, much less invite him to it, if she didn't want him to show up, right? Sebastian called out behind him, apparently surprised at the proactive move. Duke didn't waste much time explaining; if Sebastian couldn't figure out where he was going then he had way bigger problems.

His mother wasn't buzzing around the ticket counter this year- thank God- but his eyes kept sharp watch for giant pink rosettes that denoted the JL event committee members. He'd never hear the end of it if she found him at the kissing booth. He put down a twenty, and waited patiently while the kid slowly counted a strip of tickets off of the giant roll. He couldn't have been more than twelve, and already looked bored. Duke gave him a sympathetic nod; this wasn't the first or last kid to be hoodwinked into working the abysmal ticket desk. Next year this one would Tom Sawyer his little brother into the job and try his luck at making cotton candy or scaring girls in the fun house.

Duke folded the tickets into his back pocket, and looked around the get the lay of the land. Sebastian hadn't said exactly what he'd been volunteered for, but Duke knew he'd probably be avoiding his mother as well. His sister might be able to track him down, but Duke wouldn't know her if she stood in front of him, so that wasn't helpful. The kissing booth was off to the other side of field, near the edge of the whole setup. Half a dozen guys of varying ages already stood in line. Duke momentarily debated joining them, but decided against it. He wanted to have _something_ worthwhile to say to her. He could come up with something cool and casual. He could. _'You loser. You're putting this off on purpose. Since when are you so nervous about kissing a girl, no conversation required?' _Recognizing his own lameness did nothing to change it, and Duke found he couldn't get his feet to move in the direction of kissing booth just yet.

Suddenly, his balance was wrenched forward as a soft weight flew into his right side. Through quick reflexes he managed to stay on his feet, arms juggling comically through the air. His assailant, however, was not so lucky. Long blonde hair fanned out over the grass and a decidedly feminine grunt was expelled as body met ground. Duke automatically reached a hand down to help, but couldn't help himself as his eyes followed the line of exposed leg up to a fairly pretty face. She was maybe a year or two younger than him and, from a distance, sort of resembled Olivia. Or maybe that was the fact that she was looking at him with an obviously unhappy expression. Very much unlike Olivia, she started babbling apologies as soon as she grabbed his hand and sat up.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry. I wasn't even looking- I was just trying to get to the exit and I…I'm _so_ sorry!" Her eyes were wide and she continued to apologize as she righted herself. "Normally I'm not like this. I'm usually real careful. It's just that I tied my dog to part of the fence so I could go ride the Tilt-a-Whirl, but he must have gotten out of it somehow because he wasn't there when I came back and I've been looking everywhere for him and now I don't know what to do and I don't want to tell my mom that I lost him but he's not anywhere and-" Duke tried his best to keep up, but finally put his hand on the poor girl's shoulder to silence her. She looked like she was about to pass out, and he felt like he had to do something.

"Don't worry. I'm sure he wouldn't go too far; there's too much food around for him to wander off." He gave her a grin and was relieved to get a small one in response. An idea was slowly creeping into the back of his mind. Hadn't he wanted to find another girl to talk to? And here she was, practically shoehorned into his day by fate. "My name's Duke. Do you want some help looking?"

"Oh, God. I'm so rude. I'm Barbara. Most everyone calls me Babs. And I appreciate your offer, but I've been looking all over and I'm sure you have better things to do."

Duke glanced over his shoulder at the kissing booth; the line had doubled. He didn't really want to wait around on it all day, and wanted to kiss Olivia in front of such a large crowd even less. "Not really."

"Thank you." Babs relented with a smile.

The logical place to start would be to report the dog missing at the volunteer check-in tent, since medical assistance and lost and found were both located there. That option wasn't so appealing since it was highly likely that his mother or one of her friends would be hovering around. Instead, Duke figured they could walk around for a few minutes, and then he would point her in that direction when he was ready to go face Olivia. The pair casually strolled down the row of midway games, pausing to check dog-sized gaps between tents or watch a winner claim a prize. Duke chuckled as two guys he knew to be on the Cornwall soccer team totally botched the ball toss. _'Losers.' _

Barbara caught his laugh and gave him a good-natured teasing look. "Can you do better?"

The question caught him off guard; he hadn't meant for her pick up on his amusement. Outside of chucking soccer balls at his friends when they were especially annoying, it'd been years since he'd thrown a ball. His dad used to take him out to Janosko Park on Saturdays to toss around a baseball, but that was ten years ago and he hadn't felt the desire to return to the sport since. Still, Duke reasoned, he did plan to sink Drayton with Andrew and Toby sometime this afternoon, and it was far better to look like an idiot now than later. After all, what was wrong with some practice tosses during the practice conversation?

Without a word, he strode up to counter and handed over his three tickets to play. The corresponding number of balls was set before him, and he caught Babs's eye next to him. "Let's find out."

_Ten years ago, Janosko Park & Clover Field, Stratford, CT_

_Dad made a sympathetic noise as the ball went wide right of his glove for the hundredth time, but it was partially hidden by laughter. "It's alright. I should have gotten to that one." It was the same thing he'd said to every wayward throw for the past hour, but I believed it every time. Still a year too young for Little League, my dad nevertheless spent countless weekends trying to impart his skills to me. It was a slow process, constantly hampered by my short attention span and our habit of often taking breaks to wolf down Mom's cookies and generally act like fools. It was springtime, and the fresh air called for a lot of running around and laughing._

_Now the ball sailed back in a soft arc, perfectly aimed so that I barely had to move my own glove to capture it. I always tucked both ball and glove back against my chest for another throw, pulling the bill of my hat down the way my dad always did. I wasn't too sure of what that was supposed to do- the worn Wolverines hat was a size too big, and blocked part of Dad's head from my view- but it looked so professional. I memorized the texture of the stitches as the ball turned over through my fingers, wondering if I could spit the way players did on TV. These were the important things._

"_Make sure you have a good grip on this one! You don't have to move at all until you're ready. Then put it right" Dad beat a fist into his glove and held it out, "here." The next pitch failed in the same fashion as all the ones before it, of course, but it didn't matter. Dad patiently came over and made adjustments- arm, feet, motion- until I got it right. An eight-year old's best pitch that was nothing to write home about, but might as well have been the winning strikeout in the World Series for the celebrating we did. _

_I loved baseball because my dad did; a holdover from his days pitching for Michigan. I was never very good. Maybe I would have been, if things had been different. If I'd learned more than how to throw a fastball. Maybe not. Maybe I would have wanted to move to a fall sport out of rebellion. Maybe I would have played soccer anyway. _

_Either way, a year later the smell of the glove would make me sick and my index and middle fingers constantly hurt to the touch from worrying the ball so often. But I never forgot the motion, easily smashing smiling picture after picture with perfectly aimed throws._

The stupid clown he was supposed to aim for had a ridiculous painted grin, and Duke was sort of glad that he was supposed to knock the damn thing's teeth out. He picked up the first ball, involuntarily tightening his arm muscle against the familiar feel.

"Hit all three for the grand prize!" The guy behind the counter was obviously enjoying his work, smiling madly and nodding his head. Definitely a leaguer's husband.

_Clank!_ The first throw hit its mark, and a giant clown tooth went down. The second went two inches too low, knocking the next tooth but not hard enough to push it over. Duke cursed to himself, but sent the third right on the money. Fortunately not good enough for a hideous giant frog, but he did get his choice from a selection of smaller stuffed animals. Sebastian would probably insist that he give the prize to a girl, and for a moment he tried to picture which one Olivia might like. He thought they were all kind of ugly, but then, he wasn't really a connoisseur of such things.

"Wow, you're not too bad." _'Shit! Totally forgot about her.'_

Trying to cover for his absent mindedness, Duke turned to the side. "Which one do you want?"

"Oh, no! You won, you should take it!" Barbara gushed. Duke sighed under his breath. Girls were so complicated. _' Like I really want to carry around a stuffed bear all day. Or worse, take one home! Girls.' _ Glancing over the row of toys, he finally pointed to one on the end: a puppy. It wasn't as cuddly as some of the others, but at least it was appropriate. He wasted no time in handing it over.

"Take it. It…it's all yours." _'Smooth, genius.'_ They finished crossing the midway and Duke paused a dozen yards from the volunteer's tent. Still no sign of the dog. "I promised my friends I'd go meet up with them, but you should probably check over there. If you dog's anywhere around here, they'll know."

"Thanks for your help." Barbara held up her prize. "And thanks for him. I had fun."

Duke wasn't exactly sure how to handle that; the girl had been near tears when they met, and still didn't really look like she was having the time of her life. He'd only been able to speak competently because there had been something obvious to ask about. But all in all he'd felt like the whole encounter was successful, and he really didn't want to blow it now. He decided on a simple response. "You're welcome."

Karma must have been out in full force today. Just as Babs turned to go into the tent, a dark-headed streak of color collided with her. They muttered apologies, and the new attacker spun off balance into him. He held an arm out to steady her, fervently hoping this girl wasn't in tears with any of her own drama. "Hi-" Her face thankfully looked more annoyed than anything else, but he totally lost his train of thought when their eyes caught. He _knew_ this girl. Neither one moved for a fraction of second, but it felt like much longer. "Wait a minute, do I know you?"

Duke was trying to grasp for some sort of memory, something that would place this look in the right context. _'Not a classmate, not one of the girls in line to join Junior League. Soccer camp?'_

"No!" Mystery girl replied. Her tone gave it an 'obviously yes' quality and the sound immediately jogged his memory. He saw the entire thing in a flash, like the world paused around him.

_Last Fall, Mid November_

_Willowbrook Park, New Britain, CT_

_Class LL State Tournament Semi-Finals_

_Today would be the third time we met Cornwall this season, and we were hoping for the same result as the first two games. We had beaten them over a month earlier in the regular season, and again for the Southwest Conference title two weeks ago. But none of that would matter if they could best us today on the way to a state championship. _

_Soccer was always a popular sport at Illyria. The school was devoted to the sport because we won, we won because we had a good team, we had a good team because good players want to play for a school that wins and takes care of the team. There weren't too many instances when I took time to concern myself with the competition and fate of other sports at the school. I never wondered what it might be like to have a girl's team._

_Cornwall was the only school to have both of their teams make the state semi-finals. I knew their girl's side was pretty good- they had won the girls conference title earlier in the month- and nothing I saw during their morning game said otherwise. Some of them could probably best their male counterparts, though admittedly at Cornwall that wasn't too hard to do. But what I really admired was the fact that they all hung around- some of them still in uniform- to cheer on the boys as we started to warm up. I had seen them all at the Cornwall games before, but never made the connection to the girl's team. _

_Our cheerleaders were hot, but rarely even watched the games. The crowd knew that goals and steals were worth cheering for, but that was it. Only our coaches and a handful of parents really knew how much was going into the game plan, and yet here was Cornwall with an entire cheering section that appreciated every move. Several of the girls were trying to say something with a serious face, vaguely pointing in our direction, but were by and large ignored by the guys on the field. For some reason, the fact that they were still watching as our game was getting set to begin made me insanely jealous. _

_One of them- a center, if I recalled correctly- had pulled Drayton aside with a sweet smile. She had her hair down, but a kink ran across the back of her neck where it had been in a pony tail earlier. She was still in her jersey, facing me so that I couldn't get a name. Too bad. There was a sweaty sheen to her skin- she had played hard all morning- but her eyes and smile were happy, and just looking at her made me feel better. I moved a little closer to the pair, wondering what kind of conversation they might be having. Were the girls being forced to stay by the school?_

"_Hey, Justin. Listen, I noticed during the conference tournament that-"_

"_Hey! I'm about to start a game. This is important, I need five minutes of peace and quiet, ok?" _

"_I'm trying to help you. Their striker-"_

"_I don't need it. Cornwall's going to win. My little brother could beat these guys. Just go up in the stands and cheer a lot." _

_The girl sighed. "Fine. If you don't think I can help you at all, I'll go." Drayton caught her around the waist and gave her a quick spin._

"_Aw, c'mon. It's not like that. Do you really think Illyria can beat us?" _

"_You mean again? No!" The tone was treading the line between emphatic and sarcastic, maybe even trying to get Drayton to call her out. She rolled her eyes and walked off._

She rolled her eyes and walked off before Duke could say another word. He felt like he should call out after her, but to say what? _'Hey, you're a good sport and your guy's team has an asshole for a captain. Doubt that would go over too well.' _Maybe she recognized him too, and didn't want to talk. The Cornwall/Illyria rivalry didn't usually extend past sports, but maybe she might feel some loyalty to the soccer team. That certainly wasn't anyplace he wanted to go.

He was supposed to meet Andrew and Toby in a little while to spend some quality time acquainting Drayton with the bottom of the dunk tank, so he was going to need somewhere to hide until then. If Drayton was working, and that girl was around, chances were good that the rest of Cornwall's soccer players were milling about. The last thing he needed was to get into trouble with Cornwall a week before the game, especially considering he'd been busted once already. _'It's really not fair that Cornwall doesn't even start school until after the match. They can get away with so much!' _

He found refuge behind an empty cotton candy cart, hovering just far enough that no one expected him to work it, but close enough that he could pretend to be busy and ignore anyone who might pass by. It also gave him a decent view of most of the carnival setup, so he could turn around and flee if his mother appeared. Some battles were not worth fighting.

* * *

Haimes had told Andrew that Drayton would be at the Dunk Toss until three, when everyone changed shifts. His plan was to soak the moron, then hopefully catch Olivia at the kissing booth near the end of her shift, and maybe get to spend some time with her afterwards.

At two-thirty, he started for the dunk toss, meeting Andrew and Toby on the way. Sebastian was no where to be seen.

"Where's Hastings?" Duke couldn't believe Sebastian was going to pass on this opportunity.

"He took off right after you did. That bitch he dumped at Cesario's is here, and I guess he's not in the mood to deal with her." The tone implied Toby enjoyed witnessing it.

"His loss." Andrew added, "But I'm not going to miss out on this."

The line was remarkably short; the throwing distance had been increased this year from last, and it seemed that no one had been able to sink the esteemed volunteer yet and most had given up trying. _'Oh, we'll have to change that.'_ Duke was pretty sure that they would be recognized right away, and enjoyed the fact that nothing could be done about it. Even Drayton wasn't stupid enough to make a scene at a Junior League event. His mother was chair of the membership committee, and would come down harder on him than Duke's own mom. No doubt, though, that he would try to get Duke to start something and then play the innocent hero.

"Aw, look who decided to show up! You know, some of us were here early to contribute our time to a good cause." Or to heckle everyone who passed by.

"Not all of us have your experience with waterworks." Duke responded coolly. He wasn't going to be goaded, even if it killed him. But neither could he just let Drayton run his mouth. Toby and Andrew stood behind him, both grinning, but not about to be first to try and sink him. Duke sighed; he should have seen that coming. He handed a single ticket to the vaudevillian character managed the tickets and balls, not wanting to contribute too much to Drayton's booth, and Toby and Andrew did the same. It didn't go unnoticed.

"You're kidding me right? Are you all delusional or just trying to minimize the time spent on your humiliation?" Did that guy _ever_ shut up?

Duke shook his head, smirking slightly. For a second, he was tempted to miss the target altogether and nail Drayton in the head. He could probably make a reasonable argument for it, too, but the odds that his mother wouldn't find out were slim, and it probably wouldn't be worth the ensuing punishment. Probably. There would be another time to settle with him.

Maybe Drayton saw what was coming, because he didn't say another word as Duke stepped up to the pitching line. The throw was true, and Duke was instantly glad for his earlier practice. He barely noted the clang of ball meeting metal switch, as his attention was entirely focused on watching Drayton's – literal – fall from grace. It happened far too fast for Illyrian soccer players who wanted to savor the moment, but Duke knew he would enjoy the look on Drayton's face for many days to come.

"Mother f-" _Splash!_ Water sloshed over the edge of tank, smaller splashes following as Drayton sputtered and choked his way to the edge. _'Should've kept his damn mouth shut.' _ A better sport might have taken the blow and climbed back up, but instead he jumped over the edge and made am irritated announcement about taking his break. _'Loser. We'll see how easily you can run away next week.'_

Andrew grinned unrepentantly. "Should we follow him? I don't feel as though I got my money's worth." That had bad idea written all over it. Normally he wouldn't mind shadowing the guy, giving him a hard time or just freaking him out. But it was likely that Drayton had his teammates around, and asshat or not, they would probably back him up.

"Another time. I have someplace to be." More importantly, Olivia would only be at the kissing booth for another twenty minutes, so he didn't have time. "We'll take our payment on Saturday."

Toby laughed. "Of course, you can't keep Olivia waiting."

* * *

"Are you going to keep that jacket on?"

The line was long, but moving fairly quickly. Andrew and Toby steadfastly refused to actually _stand in_ line with him, so they hovered just to the side in order to continue to make comments. Duke couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the question.

"What are you? The queer eye guy now?" Andrew responded with a look that read _Why do I put up with you?_

"All I'm saying is, if she wanted to get a little handsy, that leather isn't great for getting a good grip." Duke immediately looked down at his jacket. The Ducati Meccanica jacket was his favorite, but it _was_ a little bulky for the warm afternoon. If he took it off, it _really _wouldn't be because he wanted to feel Olivia's hands slide over his shoulders. Of course, it was also a little creepy to think of Olivia being touchy-feely at the kissing booth, anyway. There were a lot of strange guys here. "This is a big moment. I'd hate to see textiles be your undoing."

Shit. Now he didn't know what to do. Where the hell was Sebastian when he needed him? Did he want to wear the damn thing or not? Exactly what sort of encounter had he been planning on?

Duke was at a loss as the line moved forward. He was at the stairs leading up to the main platform, and out of other options, he was forced to turn to Andrew and Toby for help. "What do you think it will be like?" He watched a lanky kid lean in close to Olivia, and tried to drum up jealousy or some kind of emotion. This whole event felt a little…forced. Without really considering it, he tossed the jacket to Andrew; it would be one less thing to deal with. The line shrank again and Duke handed a stub over to the girl managing the tickets. He was next.

Toby could resist poking fun at him again. "Duke, you look at me." He deadpanned, "I know it's going to be really, really special." Andrew tried to nod accordingly, but gave in to laughter as Toby continued. _'Smartasses.' _"I mean, she's only kissed like, 350 guys at this point." 'And you're going to be 351' went unspoken, but his look said it all. Duke glared as Andrew tried to make peace.

"I just think we need to acknowledge the moment." Andrew began to gesture with his hands, continuing to ramble on dramatically about life and the universe or something, but Duke didn't hear it. Mystery-Cornwall-Soccer-Girl stepped into his field of vision on the other side of the booth, looking slightly confused and out-of-breath. _'And gorgeous.' _

She walked up the other side of the booth, straight towards him, and Duke was struck dumb. Was she going to talk to him? Did she remember him too?

"Hi, I'm your relief." No. No, no, no. Terror flooded him, and there was a lot of confusion as to why. He was pretty good at kissing girls. Conversation wasn't his strength, and he rarely knew the right thing to day. But if there was ever a silver lining to that, it was the fact that he had learned to avoid talking in several ways, not the least of which is through a kiss. He was good with kissing. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to show that to Olivia without impressing her first. Not to mention, if he kissed a girl from Cornwall, there would undoubtedly be all kinds of rumors.

Worst of all, knowing all of that didn't change to fact that he wouldn't mind kissing this girl. _'Damn it all to hell. Why does everything have to be so complicated?'_ "I can't catch a break." He was screwed no matter what he did. Perhaps Olivia would finish out everyone who had handed in tickets before leaving. Maybe he would be the last one…

But no. Olivia stood and walked off, and the new girl stepped forward. Hoping Andrew or Toby might know what to do, Duke glanced off to the crowd at the right. No help there; both of them were struggling with laughter. _Where _was Sebastian? Why was his only useful friend the only one missing this? "That's just my luck."

The girl was staring like she wouldn't mind slapping him, and Duke instantly tried to backpedal. Could she understand what her going to Cornwall meant? Could he explain that this might be his only chance to kiss Olivia? "I mean, on the other hand, you're, you know, also…" No, it seemed he could not. _'Shut up, just shut up!' _He could hear himself making no sense at all, but was incapable of stopping. What the hell was wrong with him?

The girl was caught somewhere between confusion and amusement and, thankfully, cut him off before he could further make a fool of himself. "I am? Thanks…I guess." She ended with a real grin, apparently deciding that the fault was with his idiocy and not her. Small favor.

"Yeah…" Duke blushed a little, matching her grin with his own. He was never going to live this down, but regardless of whatever she was thinking, at least she wasn't giving him a hard time.

For a fraction of a second, it was sort of a nice moment. But, as always, some force of fate intervened to change that.

"You don't have to flirt with her first, genius. You're paying for it." In this case, it was in the form of an obnoxious kid in line.

"Why don't you just-" He turned to face the brat, determined to send him off, but tried to reign himself in when he saw him. "…relax." It was bad enough the kid was ten years old, but with Justin Drayton's little brother, it was going to take some serious self control not to drop-kick the little monster. Was it something in their genetic code that made them annoying?

It would probably be best just to get through this little encounter and leave. He didn't want to get into trouble with _anyone_ from Cornwall today: male, female, or monster. So he just needed to kiss this girl, right?

"It's the least I can do." Her smile widened, and she shrugged her shoulders nervously. It made him feel better, in a way, that she didn't look too settled either. Took some of the pressure off. They both gave shaky laughs, but she was still fidgeting, and that was making it hard to find her lips. Duke knew he would be able to handle this, but it would really help if she held still!

Suddenly, they connected. Everything else fell away.

Duke was used to keeping his thoughts to himself. He almost never spoke without thinking, and was used to a lot of thoughts running through his head with no place to go. But for the first time, for one, shinning moment, there was nothing. Not a sound, thought, or image of any kind was able to get past the impression of her lips on his. Blissful ignorance wrapped around a soft, gentle brush against his mouth. He'd expected the waxy, plastic tasting lipstick favored by the girls who hung around parties on the weekends, but she only tasted like funnel cake. Soft and sweet. Real.

Not the kiss of a girl who was just trying to give you your ticket's worth for charity.

Part of him was screaming to move forward, to deepen the kiss, delve into her mouth with his tongue, run his hand over the curve of her hip, _do something._ His check felt warm- too warm- and suddenly the pads of her fingertips were ghosting over his jaw. Not quite a touch, but almost. So close. It was if they both knew that despite instinct to the contrary, to move too much would be to break the spell.

He pulled away with his eyes still closed, needing to breath but not wanting to, knowing he had to move on but unable to just yet. "Ok, I think that was one ticket's worth." He still couldn't bring himself to look at her; she was probably already focused on Drayton the younger and had forgotten him. But he would give his best shot at a graceful exit. He would find her at the game next week, whatever it took.

"No, you get a little bit more." The words were electricity running through his whole body. He felt immobile. It didn't matter; she pulled him back to her before he could even open his eyes. But those were the words that _did_ break the spell. Time was of the essence now; they both knew the interlude, short as it was, couldn't last much longer. Her hands slid against him firmly this time: cheek, neck, shoulders. He'd thank Andrew for talking him out of the damn jacket later on. Her hands were warm and he could feel it easily through the thin material of his t-shirt. He felt certain there would be scorch marks where her fingers traced.

But Duke too, took advantage of the reprieve. He cupped the back of neck, silky hair tickling the back of his hands, using the gesture to both relax her muscles and hold her mouth in place for a more desperate kiss. Seconds ticked by frantically in his mind, but was impossible to distinguish real time from the cloudy mix of instant and eternity that had engulfed him.

She could kiss a thousand guys for the rest of the afternoon, but he would make damn sure she didn't forget him. Duke was certain that he could never forget her, whoever she was. Would Olivia have amazed him this much? _'No, you get a little bit more.'_

"Viola, what the hell is this?" They were unexpectedly wrenched apart, the words and voice needing extra seconds to slog through his lust-clouded brain. It wasn't really the universe that hated him. It was just the incredibly moronic Justin Drayton who hated him, and did everything within his power to make his life miserable. But still…Viola. _Viola._ Where had he heard that name before? "Excuse me, doofus, you're making out with my girlfriend." If he wasn't so pissed off, Duke would have laughed at the insult. Imagine Justin Drayton watching his language around little brother. Cute. His mommy would be so proud.

"_Ex_-girlfriend." Drayton demonstrated his usual good nature by waving off the correction and totally ignoring the girl who said it. This guy was all kinds of idiot.

"Whoa." A mental light bulb went off. What a coincidence. Sebastian had used that name, when he was acting like…_'Oh Shit. No. Cornwall, Drayton's ex, soccer player, pretty voice, pretty laugh. For the love of everything holy, I can't do this shit again. Don't let it be true. Tell me this isn't…' _"You're Sebastian's sister?" _'Please say no. I'll ignore that you go to Cornwall, I'll make nice with Drayton if you two are friends. I think you're amazing already. So please don't be-'_

"And you're about to die." The comment derailed him. Was Drayton on crack? Duke couldn't have stopped the laugh if he'd wanted too, and he most certainly didn't. He wouldn't have been surprised if this loser rattled off a 'make my day' next. What a twit. How many times would it take before he learned his lesson?

"What are you gonna do? Drown me in your tears?" _'Wouldn't take much to reduce you to tears again, fool.' _The incident was almost a year old now, but it would be an effective insult until Drayton stopped rising to the bait. He stared, not giving an inch as Drayton got in his face and came up with another denial. Duke refused to be moved, and didn't even blink as his rival gave a weak attempt to stare him down.

"You know what guys? Can we just dial it down?" Viola was probably the one with the most sense among them, but that didn't make Duke feel any better about not kicking Drayton's ass. She had a palm against both of their chests to separate them, holding slender arms up with what Duke suspected was more strength than a girl her size would normally be given credit for. Her face suggested she would not back down for any reason. "And just step away, ok?"

He took a moment to hope that she couldn't feel his heartbeat jump when she touched him. He'd been taught not to argue with a lady, and her request was both prudent and polite. Duke took a step back. "You know what? She's right." _'Even though you've clearly never thought so, moron. But all you have to look forward to is a date with Illyria now.'_ "I'll see you on the soccer field, and we'll settle this all then." Duke continued to stare, vaguely aware that Viola had taken a step closer to him, standing shoulder to shoulder facing down her ex. She looked uneasy and upset, and he wanted to put an arm over her shoulder or hip, make a gesture to offer some kind of comfort. But he didn't trust Drayton nearly as far as he could throw him, and wasn't about to move an inch before he walked away. _'I can't believe you dated a guy that acts this way. If you were my girlfriend-'_

WHACK! Duke head snapped to the side, an unexpected ache in his cheek. Despite his resolve the blow caught him off guard, lost in thoughts of the girl next to him. For a split second, Duke couldn't believe Drayton would be so monumentally stupid. Throwing the first punch? Not the least of his anger was the fact that it was _Justin Drayton_, causing a fight at a _very public_ place, in front of a very pretty, sweet, and strong _girl. _But it couldn't go unanswered, and hell, he if were suspended for this, the least he could do was make sure Drayton wasn't fit to play next week either. Sometimes you had to take one for the team.

They went flying off the edge of the booth, and Duke braced himself for the impact. It might have been easier to throw them both down to the other side, but Viola was still standing there and he was determined that she, at least, should get away unscathed. The pair rolled across the ground, thankfully free of mud, before finding their feet again. Viola- or someone, several someones- was shouting in the background, but Duke had gone totally tunnel vision.

The sucker punch was quickly revealed to be the highlight of Drayton's skill; otherwise he fought like a girl. He had no clue how to manage his weight and momentum while grappling, and Duke found it easier than expected to shove him around. Viola was suddenly there trying to break up the brawl, and somehow his first instinct was to do whatever it took to create space between her and Drayton. He tried to plant the weakling on the ground with a solid blow- if he could knock the wind out of him now, he would have to lie still and they might be able to get away from here before his mom found out- but didn't notice the balloons cushioning the landing until too late.

Drayton tried to roll over, but once again didn't have himself set to hold it, so Duke pushed him off without a problem. Drayton still couldn't accept his inadequacies. To her credit, Viola was still trying to stop him, but he charged again.

Their combined weight was too much and all three of them went ass over teakettle into the popcorn machine.

'_Son of a bitch!' _Drayton's dead weight collided with Duke's face; his most effective blow in the entire contest. Duke winced, not in pain but in disappointment. He'd been _this_ close to getting away without a scratch. Okay, so maybe a bruise or two, but now it would look like Drayton was capable of drawing _blood_, which just wasn't the case. The three of them were in the process of righting themselves, and Duke began to mentally countdown how long it would be before his mother or Drayton's showed up to ream them both out. Who would get busted first?

"Viola! Stop! This isn't ladylike!" The wince turned into a frown. Viola had tried (albeit, unsuccessfully) to stop them. Even if she was supposed to be a deb, why couldn't they take pride in the fact that she was doing what she thought was best?

The crowd was parting like the Red Sea, making way for the irate leaguers- his mother and one of her friends. His mom was practically shaking, trying to keep her cool in front of the carnival goers. But the façade burned away quickly, and she gave into her anger. "God dammit!" She slapped a hand over her mouth, nodding at her associate to take over. It was to no one's surprise that they were firmly and immediately dismissed from the grounds. All things considered, Duke felt like the punishment could be worse for now. He'd catch hell from his mother and Dinklage later.

Drayton took off immediately, but Duke looked to Viola. She seemed ok, rolling eyes and sighing at every other word as she was practically frog-marched back to her booth. _'Guess they expect her to finish her shift.' _She caught his eye just before he turned to leave, wiry grin making her feelings clear. _You're getting off easier than me. _Duke grinned back in agreement.

Toby and Andrew caught up with him ten yards from the exit, whooping excitedly and spewing out endless chatter.

"Dude! Are you okay? That was awesome-"

"You should have seen Drayton limping off. He was about ready to cry-"

"Who was that chick? She was hot!"

He was in no mood for this. His cheek hurt, he had a crush on his roommate's sister, and an encounter with Dinklage was upcoming. "I don't want to talk about it."

Andrew laughed. "Aw, come on. Tell us what he said! We were too far away."

"No." Duke marched forward, effectively ending the conversation. The two other boys scrambled to catch up again.

"Alright, alright. Don't get your shorts in a twist, man." Toby held up his hands to make peace. "You should have seen Sebastian's ex today! Damn! If she weren't bat-shit crazy, I'd totally be interested. You have to tell Sebastian though: she was hilarious trying to sneak into the moon-bounce."

"She was harassing _everyone_ looking for him. It _was_ hilarious. I don't know where he was hiding out, but for his sake, it'd better have been good." Andrew added.

"Speaking of hiding out, where the hell were you two during all that? Would it have killed you to help me out?" The thought hadn't occurred to him before now, but it still sort of pissed him off. They were teammates, dammit! Andrew and Toby shared a look, hesitating.

"Well…" Toby hedged, "We weren't sure if it was a soccer thing or…"

"Or what?"

Andrew picked up the explanation. "We didn't want to interrupt if it were some kind of…mano y mano thing. Y'know, defending maidhood, truth, honor and everything." Duke shook his head in disbelief, then immediately stopped when the movement made him dizzy. "You don't look so good, man. Let's get you home."

* * *

Everything in him protested leaving his precious bike alone at the fairgrounds, but since dying a horrible death by motorcycle was still less appealing, Duke agreed the let Andrew drive him home. They offered to take him to the infirmary, but he refused. If by some miracle Dinklage didn't hear about what happened, Duke wasn't going to gift-wrap the event in the medical log. Sebastian was still at the carnival, whereabouts unaccounted for but having texted Andrew that he could find another ride.

Unfortunately, his nose was still bleeding when they reached his dorm, and his only first aid supplies were in his locker at the stadium. _'Damn, damn, damn.'_ There was one other possibility, and Duke could tell that it occurred to all three of them at the same time. They glanced at each other for a long moment before Duke finally gave in. His head hurt too much to worry about it just now. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll kick your asses. And then pass around those pictures from summer camp. And then kick your asses again."

Without another word, he flipped Sebastian's boot over and watched the small purple box fall onto his desk, contents scattered. _'This is entirely Drayton's fault. The asshole.'_ Trying not to think too hard about what exactly he was holding, he peeled back the wrapper and pulled out the cotton swab. It _looked _innocent enough. Not like it had some weird power to girl-ify him by proximity or anything. He'd seen Sebastian do this before, right? Totally cool. Never mind the fact that he'd made some unflattering metaphors about Sebastian after _that_ incident.

Maybe he should give bleeding to death some more thought.

Toby and Andrew continued to watch with equal parts horror and interest until Duke held the thing in front of him and took a deep breath, preparing to go through with it. Then, with a quick exhale, he completed the motion in one move. Ignoring the…_thing_…itself, it wasn't so bad, really. Probably marginally better than bleeding to death.

He washed his humiliation down with two Advil, promptly kicking out his guests when Andrew asked if he gained weight on the pill.

His options for the rest of the afternoon were limited and unappealing. Allgood's parents were out of town, and he was hosting a soiree tonight, but Duke wasn't sure he'd been up for that. It seemed ridiculously lame to spend a perfectly good Saturday night doing nothing, especially since he'd copped out of Friday night's partying too. Hell, he could apply some medicinal alcohol tonight and suffer whatever headache came on Sunday.

Monday was going to be ugly, though. Literature first thing, with a quiz. He could finish off math at lunch, and didn't really need to work on chemistry until Monday evening, but lit would be a problem. _'No way around it.'_ He'd have to cover the chapter now.

_Even as one heat another heat expels,_

_Or as one nail by strength drives out another,_

_So the remembrance of my former love_

_Is by a newer object quite forgotten._

_Is it mine, or Valentine's praise,_

_Her true perfection, or my false transgression,_

_That makes me reasonless to reason thus?_

_She is fair; and so is Julia that I love—_

_That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd;_

_Which, like a waxen image, 'gainst a fire,_

_Bears no impression of the thing it was._

…

_If I can check my erring love, I will;_

_If not, to compass her I'll use my skill._

Proteus_, Two Gentlemen of Verona, _Act II

(William Shakespeare)

'_Shit, I need a nap.'_

* * *

End part 4. The rest of the chapter will be up as soon as I can re-do the dorm scene to account for the changes to this chapter;-) Then we should be back on track. On the plus side, this story will now be ten chapters long instead of nine. That's good, right?;-)

If you're a detail freak like me, here are some notes that will make you happy!

About the pink tie thing: As a clarification Viola/Sebastian isn't intentionally knocking pink or purple as a clothing choice here, she's just pointing some things that have bugged her in the past (especially from her ex!). Also, I wanted originally to get this part out in March, in time for breast cancer awareness month, but alas that didn't happen. The Pink Tie Ball is an event put on by Susan G Komen for the Cure affiliates throughout the country. It is not a Junior League event, but I know a lot of people from the organization often attend. It traditionally raises money for both breast cancer research nationally and funds for medical programs locally (wherever the hosting affiliate is located). As its name suggest, in lieu of a formal "black tie" party, gentlemen almost always wear pink ties as a show of support. It's a wonderful cause and the Komen foundation does a lot of good work (a lot of you have probably heard of their Race for the Cure). For more info, go to

The tournament flashback: Connecticut, like most states, separates high-school play into divisions by school size. In soccer, class LL is the designation for schools over 512 students. I'm basing their division off of one of the deleted scenes in which Gold stated there are 1800 students at Illyria. For simplicity's sake, I'm putting Cornwall in that division too (because otherwise, they wouldn't play against each other in the tourney!). The 2005 CT Class LL tournament (both men's and women's) held final and semi-final games at Willowbrook Park. There has been some argument that Cornwall might be smaller since they couldn't find enough girls to field a team, but there's a lot of room between 512 and 1800, and Illyria doesn't seem to have one either (or they hide it really well) so take it however you'd like. Also, while divisional titles match up schools by size, there are also conferences based on geographic area. Stratford is in the Southwest Conference, so I put Illyria and Cornwall in that conference too. All this information came from the website for the Connecticut Interscholastic Athletic Conference.

About the dunk toss: I know there was an additional scene that features Viola/Sebastian dunking Justin, but after listening to the commentary provided with it, I decided that if the director eliminated it for continuity/story reasons, then it's not really my place to stick it back in;-) The whole encounter doesn't make much sense, so I'm siding with the production staff on this one. Some of you probably noticed (or will on the future) that a few deleted scenes do make it back in, but those are mostly scenes that were cut for pacing or time, per the commentary. Since I have unlimited time and a very different pace, I feel like I should push some things back in if they make sense. If you've never seen the deleted scenes, then you can safely ignore this whole note!


	5. Whatever Stuff There Is

In a very interesting mathematical happening, chapter four got more reviews than any other chapter, and yet the least amount of hits. Does that mean you all just read it in one sitting or that it was one of the those love-it-or-hate-it things? The world may never know. In either case, thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed (especially those brave and wonderful souls who have done so multiple times!). Your comments always inspire me to write more;-)

There are a handful of scenes that I really looked forward to writing from Duke's POV when I first started this, and this part has one of them. Obviously, meeting Sebastian, going to the carnival, and the Cornwall game are all important story points, but the post-carnival bedroom scene has so much facial expression and back-and-forth between the "boys" and still almost no insight into what Duke's thinking about. Which sort of explains why a scene with a few hundred words of dialogue became one with five-thousand words of description;-) Seriously, go watch this scene and think about how little they actually say, but how much facial expression is going on. Such a great opportunity for an author to insert some angst for our protagonist ;-) This is only half a chapter, as this scene was originally supposed to be in Part 4. That being said, it really only covers one scene of the movie, and has a major dose of backstory. Everything is relevant, I promise!

Short disclaimer: I don't own any of it; nothing from any previous part, Sports Illustrated, or Beethoven. Enjoy!

Play On

Chapter 5

_In 1969 I gave up women and alcohol; it was the worst 20 minutes of my life. - _George Best

_I have a great responsibility to show them not just how to be like a soccer player, but how to be like a man. - _Pele

Even Elizabethan poets were out to get him now.

_My gracious lord, that which I would uncover_

_The law of friendship bids me to conceal;_

_But when I call to mind your gracious favors_

_Done to me, undeserving as I am,_

_My duty pricks me on to utter that_

_Which else no worldly good should draw from me._

_-_Proteus, _Two Gentlemen of Verona,_ Act III

(William Shakespeare)

When the page of text started to swim uneasily in front of him, Duke conceded to no more homework. He thought about taking a nap, but then wondered if his headache wasn't a sign of concussion. He hadn't been hit that hard, had he? How long did one stay awake for that sort of thing, anyway?

To compromise with himself, he ditched the textbook and desk for a more comfortable spot on the bed, grabbing a _Sports Illustrated_ and unplugging the landline from the wall in lieu of sleep. Twenty minutes later he gave up the pretense of reading altogether and started staring at his ceiling. The room phone couldn't ring, of course, but his cell phone was unnervingly quiet. The silence was starting to give him tremors. He didn't know exactly who he expected to hear from; his mother wouldn't be finished at the carnival until late tonight and Dinklage would almost certainly wait for the chance to tear him a new one in front of the entire team. Would Olivia want to yell at him too or would she even care?

Did _he_ even care anymore what she thought? The concept was almost strange to him; Olivia's opinion had always been important. Lately, though, it seemed like she was becoming more trouble than she was worth. Maybe they just weren't meant to be together. Especially in light of how easily things seemed to go with Viola. They'd even had a fairly decent phone call, and of course, _that kiss_.

What did Viola think?

'_No, no, no! There will be no more thinking about Viola.' _It wasn't like he even _wanted_ to think about her, really, it was just that he couldn't stop himself. He wasn't allowed to go down that path again. For one thing, Sebastian actually seemed to care about his sister, and would probably be really pissed that he made out with her in front of- '_Oh shit!'_ If Viola didn't tell Sebastian what happened, Toby and Andrew certainly would. And while they would probably be more interested in relating Drayton's injured face and pride, they would undoubtedly preface the whole thing with his little performance with Viola. Nothing good could come from this. Nothing good at all.

Duke tried to remember if Sebastian knew where Viola was working. Had he ever said so? Had his mother mentioned as much in her message? Damn it, he couldn't recall. There was a slight chance that Sebastian wouldn't know who the girl in the story was. Andrew and Toby didn't know her name or how she was related and likely wouldn't go into too much descriptive detail beyond 'hot'. Still, that depended on Viola not saying anything about him to Sebastian.

Did she even know who _he _was? She had known his name on the phone, so somehow she knew something, but he hadn't gotten any indication that she recognized him in person. Even if she mentioned the incident to Sebastian, she probably wouldn't be able to use his name. But if Sebastian got the story from his sister _and_ Andrew, he'd be able to put two and two together, right? The boy could sometimes be a little dense, so there was a small chance he'd miss it. Maybe no one would say anything.

The thin ray of hope blinked out of existence in seconds. Drayton had used his name with Viola there, and in his shock and idiocy, he'd as good as told Viola he knew her brother. She was bound to ask about it, if she didn't already know. Girls always did that sort of thing. What if she _had_ recognized him? She would probably still tell Sebastian, but she seemed to like keeping the peace, so if she thought it would cause problems, maybe not. But wouldn't she have said something to him if she did know?

"_I am? Thanks…I guess." _Shit. Had that been an accident or was she trying to tell him she remembered their brief phone conversation? There was no way of knowing.

Haimes had the volunteer list too, so if Toby or Andrew or Sebastian got curious about it, they could find out who she was for sure. If _that_ happened, it would seem like he tried to hide it and the whole thing would come off looking sort of…sordid.

Duke's whole body felt heavy with guilt, but he still couldn't bring himself to regret any part of the kiss.

There was an even worse possibility too. If Sebastian really _did_ get pissed at him, he might call off their deal. It was going to look bad anyway: he couldn't ask Olivia out himself but jumped at the chance to make out with his roommate's sister! Panic lanced through him at the thought. If that happened, what would Dinklage think? Forget the fight itself; the fact that Sebastian was no longer willing to work with him would have Duke back on top the coach's shit list in no time flat. Some leader he was. He'd been playing Sebastian's desperation to be a starter twofold, and it was about to come back and bite him in the ass. Maybe that's where all the guilt was coming from.

'_God damn it. I'm going to have to tell him myself.'_ There was no way around it. He was going to have to be a man and 'fess up. Sebastian didn't seem to be the type of guy to blow his top too easily; if Duke came clean straight away, it probably wouldn't be a major issue. Especially since it wasn't ever going to happen again. _'It absolutely can't happen again. I'm probably never going to see her again, anyway.' _The thought gave him a pang in the chest and it wasn't even true. Viola had been at every Illyria/Cornwall match he could remember; surely she wouldn't miss the match next week. He would just have to…ignore her. It couldn't be that hard.

'_Just don't think about Viola.' _ Did thinking about not thinking about Viola count as thinking about her?

* * *

Duke didn't have that many activities that took a lot of concentration and little skill, but his options were even more limited by the fact that he was unwilling to leave his bed. He settled for killing time with stupid soccer ball tricks; not the most original, but it did the job. Minimal physical effort, not a lot of heavy thinking, but the ability to focus all his thoughts on the spinning ball.

His concentration must have been more intense than he gave himself credit for, because the sound of the door being flung open failed to make him so much as flinch. He didn't take his eyes off the ball, trying his best to look innocent while determining Sebastian's mood. Duke suddenly wished they had pinned down Sebastian's whereabouts earlier instead of just letting him find his own ride. He could have spent the past few hours talking to his sister or listening to gossip at the carnival. Or not. Why couldn't he have just stuck around to stop him from doing stupid things to begin with? _'I would have been disappointed if he'd stopped me.' _

"Where were you at today? You just disappeared!" Duke did his best to keep the accusation from his voice. This wasn't the best time to piss off his roommate, but he _really_ wanted to know if he'd heard from Viola yet.

"Ran into my psycho ex. Had to bolt." The reply was surprisingly reticent for Sebastian and Duke struggled with what that might mean. Did he know about Viola and was pissed about it? Maybe he in a bad mood already and would be likely to get pissed about it. Or maybe his ex just creeped him out so much he didn't want to elaborate. _'Damn it. Does he know or doesn't he?' _Crippled by indecision, Duke's concentration wavered and the ball fell off his hand. It was a blessing in disguise though, as Sebastian got his look at Duke's face and let out an exclamation of surprise.

Duke's relief was immeasurable. Normally he'd hate having to explain this sort of thing, but it was pretty obvious that his roommate hadn't expected him to be injured and that could only mean neither Viola nor his friends had spoken to him yet. Part blessing and part curse really. Now he'd have to lay everything on the line himself. He rose from bed, determined to at least make this confession face to face. Probably best, though, not to have that…_thing_…in his nose when he did.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding. Are you okay?" The concern caught him off guard; it was like a total 180 from the careless Sebastian who'd just walked in the door. A tad bit of an over-reaction, and Duke wasn't sure what to make of it. '_Of course, Sebastian's probably used to his sister's whiney-assed ex crying and bitching after a fight. And judging from his restraint, he probably got into a lot of them.'_ Sebastian seemed to pick up on the awkwardness and tried to lighten the mood. "Suck it up! Be a man! Rub some dirt in it!"

His face was completely over-exaggerated and Duke suddenly wondered if Sebastian was trying to mock Dinklage again. Not too many players tried it, and he couldn't help chuckle at the thought that it would be _Sebastian_ of all people. Then again, hadn't he thought Sebastian was a smartass on day one of tryouts?

His thoughts were quickly brought back to the present when Sebastian asked the question Duke had been dreading for hours. "So…What happened?"

What a loaded question. It sounded just a bit couched to Duke, but not so much that it was obvious. It was possible that Sebastian was honestly concerned or curious. It was equally possible that he already knew something about what really happened, and was checking to see if Duke would lie to him. Either way, there was only one thing to do.

"I got into it with your sister's ex." It wasn't a lie, even if it did leave out some of the important parts. Duke watched Sebastian's face carefully, trying to determine how much detail to give.

"Really? Why?" Sebastian sat on the bed across from him, but his tone remained entirely unaffected. He had made it pretty clear in the past that there was no love lost between him and Drayton, but even so Duke couldn't believe he was so blasé about it. He either had no clue what to think, or was just used to Drayton starting fistfights. _'I'm so tired of trying to get a read on him. I just need to get it out.' _

It was now or never.

"He saw…" _'I could say anything, it would be believable.'_ "Me and her…" _'I could say he saw the two of us run into each other and blew up.' _"Kinda…" _'We were just talking, and he butted in and started acting like an ass.' _"Making out at the kissing booth." _'Don't hate me.'_

"Wait…You _kissed_ her?" Sebastian was not a great actor, but Duke still appreciated the attempt. Whatever it was the smaller boy was feeling, it was clearly a struggle to keep it in check. That was fine by him; he didn't really believe Sebastian would be thrilled or anything. The fact that he was trying to be calm and cool meant that he didn't want to start a fight over this any more than Duke did. For now, at least.

'_Better than I expected, worse than I hoped.'_ The treacherous little thought slipped into his head before he could stop it.

Probably it would just be best to apologize, and move on. "Yeah, man. I hope that's ok." _'I can't do it. I can't tell you I'm sorry it happened. I'm not; even if it pisses you off, I'm not sorry.' _ "It was for charity!" That was the best he could do.

Although he was dying to change to subject to _anything_ else, Duke sat and waited for Sebastian to make a move. The guy deserved the chance to bitch him out, if he wanted to.

"Aw, nah. Dude, if you want to kiss her, then you go right ahead and you kiss her." Probably any guy seemed like a step up from Drayton, Duke reasoned, but Sebastian was _definitely _struggling to be okay with this. Something was going on in the boy's head. As the mini-rant went on, he became more and more manic. It was totally understandable, on some level. It must really suck to have to balance your sister and friends. _'Especially when you actually give a shit about both.' _"I mean, knock yourself out. Just take her…and kiss her…and then kiss the crap out of her!" He finished the speech with a sharp hand movement, and Duke wondered if Sebastian was actually thinking about slapping him again.

Still, there had been no insults, no talk of calling off their deal, and Sebastian hadn't made any demands to stay away from Viola, so Duke felt like he should quit while ahead. It was extremely creepy to think about kissing Viola with her brother _right there_ anyway. Despite his sort-of-encouraging façade, he was clearly dealing with some other thoughts on the subject that he didn't want to share, so Duke wasn't about to force it. Time for a new topic. "Okay."

Duke moved back on his bed, ready to turn on SportsCenter. He told himself he felt relieved. The bombshell, as it were, had been dropped and he had survived. Except for that little fact that he was still essentially lying about everything else he was doing with Olivia and their deal.

Busy wallowing, Duke didn't see Sebastian preparing for his next question. "Do you _like_ her?"

It was a reasonable question, and one Duke had sort of expected earlier. The part that caught him off guard though, was the tone. This wasn't Sebastian tense and jittery with bottled emotion. It was a sincere inquiry; a guy keeping an eye out on behalf of both sister and friend. None of that helped him answer it though. If he denied it, would that be too insulting? If he said yes, would Sebastian still work on their deal? _'Damn it, I was _this_ close to being through with this conversation!' _

"I don't know. Can we not talk about this?" Duke wasn't about to get into another brother/sister situation. What right did Sebastian have to know how he felt when he had no clue anyway? "She's your sister. It's kind of weird." _'That's kind of an understatement.'_

For a moment, it seemed like Sebastian would understand, or at least accept, his confusion on the subject. "Oh, right, right." He sounded like he had practically forgotten they were talking about his sister. Duke appreciated the attempt at objectivity, but he sure as hell wasn't about to get into graphic detail. There was a second of silence, and Sebastian continued. "It's just- you know, I was just thinking that if you liked her then…"

Sebastian trailed off for a moment, and Duke turned his head sharply to look at the boy, bracing for the inevitable threat. The guy has defended his sister before, and it wasn't surprising that he would do so now. "…Maybe you should…" Sebastian took a breath and finished his sentence in a rush, clearly not accustomed to being in this position. "…Ask her out."

He couldn't have heard that correctly. Impossible. That blow to his head must be giving him delusions. Auditory hallucinations were possible, right? Duke could have sworn he just heard his roommate grant something like a blessing to date his hot sister. Where was that coming from? He sounded like he was still struggling a little with the whole concept, but at least he was willing to take it seriously.

Or was he?

Little voices in Duke's head began to whisper venomously. Sebastian was being awfully level-headed about this considering how close he claimed to be with his sister. Maybe Sebastian _was_ trying to get out of the deal. Maybe he would be willing to give up a starting spot, and sell out his sister if it meant…

'_If it meant what? It's ridiculous. I came to _him_ with the suggestion; all he wants is to play soccer. Ending the deal wouldn't do anything, except keep Olivia from going out with me.' _How did Sebastian benefit from Olivia being single?

"And just, I don't know…forget about Olivia?" He couldn't do that, could he? Olivia had been his perfect girl for the better part of four years. So maybe she wasn't perfect, and maybe he'd found someone else who was a little more perfect for him. That wasn't any reason to just up and leave.

Was it? He'd gone through this logic before, and never got any new answers.

"Speaking as totally objective third party outsider with absolutely no personal interest in the matter-" Sebastian was lying, of course, and it immediately caught Duke's attention. _'Personal interest? What are you getting at, Sebastian? Why are you pushing this?'_ Duke had thought that Sebastian's only really personal interest in Duke's love life was through their agreement, and it was pretty much focused on Olivia. But if Sebastian's 'personal interests' were the same…? His heart tightened in chest, some sort of cold emotion filled him for a moment. _'Hell no! Sebastian's interested because this is his _sister_, and he actually cares about her. He probably wants to make sure you're not too obsessed with Olivia to treat her well. He's been nothing but helpful.' _It made sense, and Duke felt horrible and guilty for even considering other possibilities. He shook his head, trying to be aware that Sebastian was still talking. "You and Viola…It would be magic."

Magic; of that, Duke held no doubt. He stared straight ahead, leaving the small room and its other occupant behind as his entire being relived the sweetest thirty seconds of his life from earlier in the afternoon. He could practically feel the fingers of his right hand trail down the smooth, cool curve of her cheek. He snapped back into the here-and-now, mentally berating himself for caressing the damn _soccer ball_. He had to admit, that aside from the rambling, all stuff that made no sense, and all the bullshit, that Sebastian had stunningly voiced his own earlier thoughts. Was it so obvious that he was following the wrong trail? Or did Sebastian really have his own agenda? _'Like I have room to talk.'_ It wasn't as if pursuing Viola would mean he had to totally forget Olivia. Sebastian hadn't even offered agreement when he suggested as much, and Viola was his sister.

It didn't matter either way what Sebastian might be thinking; Duke was still going to have to make the decision for himself.

"I don't know." He really didn't. It felt like a step forward from blind adoration of Olivia though, and even through his confusion Duke felt a little relieved. He didn't need to decide right now. There wasn't anyone looking over his shoulder trying to tell him…

"What does your heart tell you to do?"

"Huh?" Maybe Sebastian was trying that girly-role-playing shit again, and if so, it really wasn't going to fly. Duke glanced at his roommate, but he looked totally serious.

For all of about a second and a half, that is, until even _Sebastian_ seemed to realize how insane the question was. Once again, Duke resolved to make Sebastian start hanging out with more guys. He was trying hard, but the guy had no clue what to say half the time. Backpedaling, Sebastian flopped back onto his bed and spoke again. "I mean: Which one would you rather see _naked_?"

He shouldn't have been surprised, really. He'd heard Sebastian comment on plenty of other girls before, including Olivia. Yet even that hadn't set him off as much as this did. For Christ's sake, this was his _sister_! Didn't he see anything beyond a conquest at all? Duke considered that maybe he'd overestimated the closeness between the siblings, but even so, to say such a thing was totally uncalled for. Sebastian had always shown an annoying tendency to quickly flip between nice guy and player, but Duke couldn't remember ever being as put off by the switch as he was right now. He could neither explain the slow burn he felt at the comment nor ignore it. Never mind the fact that he already knew the answer; it was far easier to give in to the simmering emotion than analyze why.

He was seventeen! No one could even say the word naked and not expect him to immediately apply it to the girl he was thinking about. Or the girl he was thinking-about-not-thinking about, because he wasn't allowed to think about her. In any case, it certainly wasn't his fault. Not at all.

Panic and anger warred within him. "Why? Why, why, _why?_ Why do you always do that?" Duke sat up, as though he might choke on the strange anger if he didn't. Sebastian looked on, mildly blinking. "Why do you always talk about girls in such graphic terms? Huh?" Still no answer; his roommate hadn't moved an inch, and still didn't seem to understand what exactly the problem was. _'Which one would you rather see naked?'_ He'd just put it out there like it was a totally valid question! _'Which one would you rather see naked?'_ Duke wasn't even going to think about it. He wasn't!

"You know what…" _'Which one would you rather see naked?'_ "You…" He couldn't shut out the mental image any longer, and he felt like his brain was about to short-circuit. He'd thought about plenty of girls naked before, but hell, not with her brother _right there_ asking about it. It wasn't his fault; asking a question like that was only asking for trouble. "You have serious issues." _'And, I think I do too.'_

Sort of embarrassed by his reaction, Duke studied the cover of his forgotten _Sports Illustrated_ and hoped Sebastian would let the moment pass. But really, since when did Sebastian ever know when to stop talking?

"You're a really sensitive guy, aren't you?"

"What? No!" Sebastian's voice was soft, and reminded Duke entirely too much of his sister as she'd said something similar on the phone. _"You're really nice."_ The difference, of course, being that his sister probably meant it, and Sebastian was probably trying to make fun of him for picturing said sister naked. "No, it's just…I don't know." Duke was certain there was no Emily Post-approved guideline for this type of situation.

Still, this was probably a good chance to make a few things clear to him. Sebastian tended to show totally different sides of himself to different people, and it was frustrating to deal with. Half the time Duke wasn't really sure who the guy really was. When they first met, it had made Duke distrustful of him, but now he was pretty sure that Sebastian just never made enough distinction between any different kinds of relationships.

Sure, there were those types of girls that you could make out with on weekends and never call again, but actually _dating_ someone was totally different. "I just think that relationships should be more than just the physical stuff." The memory of Viola's kiss flashed before him, and in the interest of honesty, Duke corrected himself. "Don't get me wrong, that stuff's important, but when I'm with someone, I want to be able to talk about other stuff. Like, I don't know, serious stuff. Stuff I can't talk about with anyone else." He stared at the ceiling, unable to stop thinking about the ever-sharper differences between Viola and Olivia. It would be nice to have a serious conversation with Olivia, Duke felt, but they had never even come close to a real discussion. He wasn't even sure he was _capable_ of it. He tried to recall their past few interactions, but none of it really fell into 'serious stuff'.

"Yeah? Like what kind of stuff?"

"I don't know, just stuff." Sebastian was so interested in the answer that Duke had to laugh. Did he see this as the next key to turning girls on or was he making an effort to be more honest? "Like…" _'What I'm going to do next year, where I'll end up. Everything about my life, my friends, my family. And what she thinks of all of those things.'_ "Whatever stuff there is."He'd only ever really asked a girl about her family once, on the hope that Viola could tell him more about Sebastian. She hadn't said all that much, but the conversation hadn't made him nervous.

"Like…this kind of stuff?" Duke wasn't exactly sure how, but Sebastian managed to ask the question in a way that was both timid and smug. The ass.

It felt good to have cleared some air with his roommate. _'Except for that part about using him to keep Dinklage from hating you.' _"Yeah." For a guy who'd spent his first couple days at school with the habit of running his mouth too much, it was surprisingly easy to open up to him. Something he and his sister had in common, Duke supposed.

Then he sat straight up. _'Oh shit. Sebastian Hastings, I swear to God, if you breathe one word of this to your sister there will be no words for what I do to you…'_ Not to mention the hell he'd get from Toby and Andrew, who were probably already dying to gossip about what they saw today. Bunch of girls. "But what I just told you is for your ears only. If you tell anyone, I'll… kick your ass." For punctuation, he flung the soccer ball in Sebastian's direction. His roommate made an affirmative response as Duke returned to his magazine, putting the conversation to an effective end.

* * *

_Da-da-da-daaaa._

The companionable silence lasted until Duke's cell phone began ringing with Beethoven's Fifth. It was lame, and he knew it was lame, but it greatly went against his nature to assign a cooler song to his mother. There was a helpful, ominous quality to the sound that always put him in the right mindset to speak with her.

He _could_ just let it ring. In fact, he probably _should_ just let it ring.

The familiar notes sounded again, and Duke could tell Sebastian was looking at him, wondering why he didn't answer it or turn it off. Sure, he didn't want to talk to her, but actually ending the call seemed a little too obnoxious. This way, he could pretend like he totally intended to answer it for a few seconds.

The fourth ring played through; the fifth would take the call straight to voicemail. Duke sighed and reached for the nightstand on the final trill. "Hi Mom."

"I am not even sure what to say to you. Fisticuffs at a _carnival_? You _know_ how important this event was to me." '_This event, the next event, and all the events that were to come.'_ "You are just lucky that poor boy ended up alright. I can't believe you just let one of my debutantes drag you into such goings-on. You should know better than to let her act that way!" _'I'm alright, thanks for asking.'_ Duke let the phone rest next to his head on his pillow, rapidly running out of energy to listen. He tucked one hand under his head, while the other idly toyed with the ring that lay against his chest. His mother was still building up steam. "Not to mention, this whole ruckus is only a few days before we take photos!" Duke had no idea what that had to do with anything, but let it pass. He could do without a lecture on the proper timeframe for Junior League photography.

"I'll still expect you to show up on time Tuesday. Five sharp." She concluded. "Make sure you're dressed and presentable."

A week ago Duke had been bound and determined to skip the damn photo session. That had been before his recent transgression, but he didn't feel any differently about it. "Mom, look, I really can't spare the time right now. And I just don't want to-"

"Your father would have been so proud of you for helping me with this." Duke sucked in a breath. This was a low blow, and one he was _never_ prepared for. She played the Dad card rarely and with great skill. He always gave in, but it made him hate her a little bit more every time. "I'll have your tux laid out at the house. Come by and get it beforehand."

"Fine. See you Tuesday." He sure as hell knew that he wouldn't be seeing her anytime before then. Though it would be a long shot, he fervently hoped he'd be able to get in and out for his photo without having to speak to her or be introduced to any of her friends.

The thought hurt a little; he missed being able to talk to his mom, but that had more to do with her current Stepford personality than scheduling. His fist tightened around the ring searching for a measure of comfort, but its normally cooling tang had been lost to his body heat. Part of him wanted to rip the chain from his neck and forget he had any family altogether.

It had been years, but he couldn't stop wishing for his parents back.

Duke flicked the phone off the bed, delighting somewhat in the crash it made meeting the nightstand. His forearms folded across his eyes, as though he might convince himself this was all a dream if only he could block out the light. His head was spinning.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah. Fine." Duke forced out the words, knowing fully well that they didn't even _sound_ true. Hopefully even the oblivious Sebastian could pick up on the fact that he didn't want to talk.

"What is it that gets to you so badly?"

Duke lifted a single arm, focusing against the bright lamp to see if Sebastian was serious. He was. "Huh?"

Sebastian lifted a corner of his mouth; his voice was low but his face was sympathetic. "My mom's always acting like playing soccer is second rate to whatever it is she thinks I should be doing. I can deal, but nothing bothers me so much as when she gets _happy_ that it's going badly for me. If I can't avoid her, I give in to her so she'll leave me alone." He paused briefly, waiting Duke to respond. When he didn't, Sebastian prodded a bit more. "That sounded like a wear down only a mom knows how to do."

"My dad." It was an injustice that such a little phrase should have to convey so much. But Duke didn't have the strength to lie or elaborate just then.

Unaware, Sebastian misunderstood. "Oh, sorry. I thought that sounded like your-"

"No- I mean, yeah, it was. But my mom knows she can get me to stop fighting her when she brings up my dad." Duke sighed. "I _hate_ it."

"That sucks. How does your dad handle that?"

'_I would kill to find out.' _"He died when I was eight." Duke could say the phrase easily enough. It wasn't like he was in denial, or had never had to explain that fact to other friends or teammates. Sometimes he even found a dark amusement in watching the fish-faced expression of unsuspecting people, but he didn't really bother watching Sebastian's reaction. He was in no mood for _that look_. "I didn't deal with it real well, so my mom and I threw out just about everything in the house that made us think of it. It seemed easiest at the time, but now we avoid it so much that hearing about him..."

"That must be so-" Sebastian sounded pained, but still paused. "I mean, I get it. Sorry, man. Didn't mean to pry."

Suprisingly, Duke found that he didn't mind so much. He didn't go out of his way to keep all of this a secret, but he had never found a reason to explain it to anyone, either. "It's cool." Talking about his dad got him out of his own head a little; that felt better than expected. Almost all of his current friends hadn't even met him until after his mom remarried, and very few had ever asked. "I think about it a lot, sometimes."

"What do you think about?" Sebastian asked the question so carefully, almost with a wince, like he didn't know if this would be pushing too far. Duke knew he'd left the door open for the question; it was amusing and so out of character for Sebastian to hesitate about being nosy. And maybe part of him had wanted his roommate to ask.

"Weird stuff. I wish I had something of his from high school- to know what he was like then. Sometimes I try to remember having dinner with both my parents there, just the three of us, and what their voices sounded like when they were just talking to me and not trying to impress anybody." Duke continued to stare at the ceiling through his arm, but the world was slowly stopping its crazy whirl. He rubbed his thumb over the outer edge of the ring at his neck, now somewhat cooler. Much to Duke's surprise, Sebastian noticed the gesture.

"Was that his?" He nodded at the ring in Duke's hand.

"This was my mom's, from a bunch of years ago. My dad gave it to her as an engagement ring, because he couldn't afford anything else back then… I took it right after he died and never told her." Telling it that way made him sound like a thief, but it was better than rehashing the worst few hours of his life.

_Late Spring, Nine years ago_

_Orsino Home, Stratford, CT_

_Night, time unknown_

_Every motion of my fingers ached under the bandage on my hand. I remember the gauze was clean and white; so much saner and easier to look at than the scatter shards of glass and picture frame that littered the hallway behind us. I had spent the last ten minutes hurling a baseball into every frame on the wall, heedlessly grabbing the photos afterward and tossing it into the fireplace. I didn't want to look at him anymore. _

_My mom had dashed downstairs in time to find me bleeding and wracked with heaves in front of the hearth. She wasted no time in cleaning the cuts up and then proceeded to knock back a bottle of something that I was "too young to appreciate."_

_I was supposed to be in bed hours before, but exactly how long ago I couldn't say. Neither Mom nor I could sleep, and we were really willing to give up trying. We sat on the floor, side by side, no lights on. I was compulsively rolling my baseball around in my fist, vaguely aware of my mom's similar motion as she twisted her ring around her finger over and over. I couldn't take a deep breath; my lungs wouldn't do it. My heart was racing too fast, trying to keep the rest of the world from catching up._

_The tension built with every motion. I like to think we both snapped at the same time. She let out a sob, ripped off her ring, necklace, and shoes, and dropped the pile onto the logs. I was too angry to cry anymore. My ball cap followed the shoes on the pile and I swore the last pitch I ever threw was going to be that baseball into the fire. Neither of us stayed in the room to watch the pseudo-pyre burn. _

_Mom and I were more alike than we would ever admit. _

_Except I was weaker than she. Cold, early morning light filtered in through the closed blinds a few hours (or maybe it was minutes, or days) later. I walked down the stairs unconcerned with being noticed, having just seen my mom in her room tossing the contents of the dresser into large garbage bags. I stared at the ashes in the fireplace, hoping for some helpful sign. The only distinguishable thing amidst all the blackness was a tiny glimmer of gold. Her ring. And I knew I'd never be able to let go completely. _

"I don't think she really noticed. My mom remarried pretty quickly after that, and when we moved I changed schools. The marriage didn't last long, but it was like a whole new life after that." _'And she started the tradition of purging everything from her life that brought any ex's to mind.'_

"Damn." Sebastian summed things up nicely. Duke was suddenly feeling a lot lighter. Sebastian, despite his faults, wasn't half bad as a sounding board. Just laying out the barest facts, basic though they were, helped remind his mother was still doing her best to deal with things and him that he had good friends on his side too.

He was stunned to realize that he hadn't thought about or missed his former best friend in almost a week. Not since he and Sebastian had come to terms on their deal. Maybe he was growing. Or maybe the entire ordeal was becoming less important to him.

But there had probably been enough discussion about his life for tonight. Hell, Sebastian was probably a heartbeat away from telling his sister that he was going insane. How had he gotten so verbose? Both the siblings had proved easy to be around, but Duke just couldn't believe how easily he shed his insecurities around them, in both words and actions.

'_Enough!'_ Duke need to do something that wasn't school, soccer, or personal history related. There was really only one remedy for getting his mind off everything.

"You going to Allgood's thing tonight?"

Sebastian nodded eagerly. "We're still going to practice tomorrow, though, right?"

Duke grinned. In the nicest possible way, he had to admit that his roommate could be such a dork. "Yeah, sure."

"Cool. Let's go."

"Let's go."

* * *

End Chapter 5

The shortest part yet! Even the notes are short too;-) Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and having an incredible amount of patience with me. Stay tuned for Chapter 6, which has more soccer boys, more partying, and our intrepid hero making plans for a date;-)

Read on if you want to know more;-) She's the Man fanfic: It's fun and educational!

About Beethoven's Fifth: Although not everyone would recognize it by name, I'm sure you have all heard at least the opening of Beethoven's Fifth symphony. While of course I can't fully describe it here without sound, you all probably know the first four notes (sometimes compared to a musical representation of knocking on a door). For clarity's sake, the exact arrangement I'm actually thinking of here is "Requiem (The Fifth)" from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's _Last Night_. If you'd like to refresh your memory of the symphony itself, it is available at Wikimedia commons. A sample of the TSO's version is available on their website.

About the ring: The DVD commentary (from both the actors and producer) pretty much specifically calls out the ring that Duke is always wearing as an engagement ring, that at some point belonged to Duke's mother. Granted, to me it looks more like a _wedding_ band than an engagement ring, but Channing Tatum came up the story so what he says goes. Since nobody gets into details about how he came to have it, I filled in the gaps as best I could myself;-)


	6. If She Wanted to Grab Dinner

Play On

I'm pleased to offer up a new chapter that has a little less conversation and a little more action (please )! It is also a full-length chapter, so I hope everyone is willing to read another long one;-) Thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, short though it was. I love hearing what everyone thinks, so please don't hesitate to offer your opinion or questions in a review or email! Starting from this chapter on out, we get into the more climactic scenes, so it's worth knowing if something is especially enjoyable or doesn't make sense for my wonderful readers.

Chapter 6 also features the return of the scavenger hunt items. There are two minor characters in this part vaguely (and not so vaguely) named after two minor characters from Twelfth Night. Find them and win my compliments ;-) A couple of points in this chapter refer to things mentioned in earlier parts, so I hope everyone is up-to-date on our story so far;-) If it's been awhile some of the little stuff might not be noticeable right away;-) Most of the references are minor and I tried to make everything readable, but some things may have had groundwork laid some time ago (even waaaaay back in part one!). I've been building small things into this for awhile;-) I'm amused by that sort of thing…

Note as of 7/1/08- The un-edited version has now been replaced with the final edits! The spelling and grammar errors should be gone, all thanks to my wonderful and hardworking editor, who is far more organized than I;-) There are no story changes between the drafts, just better spelling;-) Again, I apologize to everyone who initially read the uncorrected version.

Disclaimer: Oddly enough, I still don't own the movie, the play, any of the schools mentioned, Burger King, or anything else. This chapter also features underage people doing things that are against the law. Don't do them if you aren't of legal age.

Play On

Chap 6

_I fell in love with football as I would later fall in love with women: suddenly, uncritically, giving no thought to the pain it would bring_. - Nick Hornby

The music coming from Allgood's house was loud, and that was about all Duke could say about it. Lyrics indecipherable, the bass overshadowed any kind of instrumentality that may have tried to break through. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, since the volume was proportional to the noise of the crowd gathered in and around the house.

And that was fine by him. Duke certainly didn't want to hear his own thoughts- or anyone else's- at the moment. He was in a Mood.

Sebastian trailed a step and a half behind, slightly off his left shoulder. He had never been here before, and Duke supposed that a person who wasn't used to it might be a little awestruck by the size of the house and the crowd. Regardless, he marched passed the groups on the veranda and pushed through into the kitchen, nodding a greeting to Cohen and Andrew as he spotted them on the way. He helped himself to two cups from a bag on the counter and tossed one to Sebastian. "Don't lose this. They'll run out soon."

"You know your way around." Sebastian observed, accepting the red plastic cup.

Duke shrugged with an appreciative tilt to his head. "I've been here before. This isn't the first time Allgood's hosted a blow out." They moved back outside, where a throng had congregated on the porch. Half a dozen people moved aside for Duke, revealing the silvery gleam from the keg.

"Mmm, Duke! Where have you been? Andrew said you might not show!" Light arms wrapped around his waist from behind, not altogether surprising or unwelcome. A second voice vibrated against his ear a moment later. "We missed you last weekend. Have you been hiding from us?"

Duke couldn't think of a response that wouldn't be a lie or insulting, and instead chose to take a swallow from his cup. "Hey Val, Yuri." The two cheerleaders had sought him out at just about every gathering he'd attended for some time. While he didn't always reject their attention, he wasn't always happy about it either. It often was tough to decide if these two would be worth their trouble on a given night. "Have you two met Sebastian Hastings yet? He's a transfer."

The girls gave Sebastian a once over, but wasted little time in turning their attention back to Duke. The blonde standing behind him lifted a hand off of his stomach long enough to gesture hello. "I'm Valentine." Duke resisted the urge to tense up as her hand settled against his shirt again; he knew from experience that it would only make her comment on his abs and didn't want to hear it right now. Maybe later. Val arched her neck to get a better look at Duke. "I heard you crossed over to the dark side, Duke. Bringing your new girlfriend to the JL carnival: have you abandoned us Illyrians?"

"_What_?" Between the cheerleaders and debutants at Illyria, Duke knew that news traveled fast, and rarely with a great degree of accuracy. He'd expected to take some flak if someone recognized Viola as a Cornwall girl. But now she was his _girlfriend_? They'd barely spoken to each other! He put his free hand on Val's arm to get her attention. "That's insane. Who the hell did you hear that from?"

Yuri's almond eyes narrowed skeptically as she faced him. "So you're telling us it's not true? Jessica saw you there on a date with a girl from Laurelton Hall. You won a prize for her and everything. You've never done that for me!"

'_Oh my God. They're talking about that girl I met, Babs!' _"No, it's- She's not my girlfriend."

"But you were there with her, yeah?" Yuri pressed on. "Were you with her last weekend, too?"

Duke sighed and polished off the rest of his cup. This was getting ridiculous, and he was starting to feel a little warm with Val still wrapped around him. He glanced at Sebastian, hoping for some help, but knew instantly he wasn't going to get any. Sebastian was staring at his arm on Val's, some mix of annoyance and jealousy on his face, and Duke felt badly about it for a moment. Second stringers rarely got the same attention from these girls as starters. He was probably also not too thrilled that Duke was out with another girl just before making out with his sister. This needed to be straightened out, and then Duke intended to find his roommate a girl. Someone hot. And decidedly not Olivia, just in case. "Look, she's not important, okay? Forget whatever you heard."

"So you're fair game tonight, then." Val brightened, but that only seemed to further irritate Sebastian.

"Sounds like you were pretty busy today." Sebastian commented dryly. His face was stormy and he practically hissed the words under his breath. Duke glanced at his roommate quickly, but was almost immediately pulled back. Val pressed her lips against his and all thoughts of Sebastian were forgotten.

He didn't mind. He was seventeen and liked kissing girls. And Val was very, very, good at it. It didn't have the same urgency or sense of forbiddance that kissing…_some other_ _girl, and he wasn't thinking of anyone particular_…might have had, but it also wasn't going to get him punched. Val grinned wickedly when they separated. "We're going to get ourselves drinks. Come find us later and we'll have some fun." Yuri gave him a wink, and the two walked off arm in arm.

Oh boy.

Sebastian didn't look impressed. "When did you start dating another girl? Who is she? I thought you were interested in Viola now."

Duke mentally winced. "I am. I think. But I haven't asked Viola out yet and besides, I don't think of those two as girls I would ever date. All through school the only time I ever really talked to girls was at parties, and that's mostly just messing around. I can handle that. It's just all the other stuff- the daily stuff- that gets to me. I feel like an idiot saying the same things over and over. Here, nobody cares." His eyebrow arched as he remembered the day they had become friends. "Like you have room to talk. Weren't you the one with _three_ girlfriends when school started?"

"Yeah, well…I'm…" The smaller boy blushed and was stuck trying to stammer a response. "…A guy." He finished sullenly. Duke gave him a Look.

Sebastian threw back the rest of his own drink and continued with new fervor. "That's not the point. We're not talking about me. You don't need to waste your time with those girls. They're…wrong for you. You talked to Viola before- or so I heard. Besides, you're really popular and ho- _have_, and have a lot of people who look up to you. I can't believe you're so self-conscious with girls at school."

Duke shook his head. "I went to Fairfield Country Day until ninth grade. I liked it because I could play soccer every year, but it's an all-boys school so it's not like there were a lot of girls around. And not all girls make me nervous. Just…some." Sebastian was grinning at him again. "Shut up."

Andrew and Cohen caught up with them before Sebastian could respond.

"Hey dudes! Why's yer cup empty?" Andrew had gotten a head start on the drinks. "Isn't this party great? I saw you talking to _Va-a-l_. Isn't she great?"

"Yeah," Duke chuckled. "Great."

* * *

"We started throwing parties here in middle school, but back then none of us were old enough to drive out to Sacred Heart or Ethel Walker to invite any girls. It was three years of nothing but card games and porn until Captain Orsino here moved on to high school." The host for the evening, Allgood, had joined the group moments ago and was busy catching Sebastian up on past history. "Him, me, and Cohen all played for FCDS, but he left early to start for Illyria."

Duke grinned. "I was anxious to get out of the house as soon as possible. The fact that it got me away from you guys for a year was just a bonus."

Cohen gave him a half-assed glare. "You stuck us at school alone with Malcolm for an extra year. Don't think I've forgotten that."

"Do we have to talk about Malcolm? He's such a loser." Duke had a nice buzz working, and this conversation was sure to kill it. No one killed his fun the way Malcolm did, and he'd gotten himself into a pretty good mood as he lounged in a chair. The group had long since commandeered the porch furniture, letting hordes of underclassmen and others of less importance wander around them.

"Duke and Malcolm have been at each others throats since second grade." Cohen clarified to Sebastian, who had an amused look on his face. Duke groaned. "Their chemistry practical exam in sixth grade went so badly that the school had to be closed for two days to clean up. CAIS required them to be separated in chem all the way through upper school after that. First and only time it's happened."

Sebastian giggled. Duke shook his head at the sound, wondering if the guy were drunk already.

"He _has_ been acting a little weirder than normal lately. He's been taking pictures and video of everyone who was on the field for the past couple of days. And I swear I saw him going through the laundry bin after practice on Friday." Allgood shuddered. "Maybe Cornwall has him doing their recon."

"Oh, please. I don't want to hear a damn word about that place. We're not going to talk about Cornwall; they don't deserve it." _'And I really, really, want to not-think-about someone who might go there.'_

"I'm just sayin', usually they've tried to do something by now. We should watch out. It doesn't take much talent to make the team there, but they'll do anything to win."

"Forget talent, you can earn a spot on the team at Cornwall by doing anything: bribe the coach or straight up cheat."

Andrew popped back into view, Toby alongside, holding a new drink for himself and handing one to Duke. "Man, you guys are _depressing. _ I thought we were here to have _fun._" Yuri and Val, with a few other cheerleaders in tow, trailed behind him. "Clearly this party really needs my help." The pack of girls laughed.

A brunette grabbed Andrew's arm as he led her to a seat. Yuri wasted no time in folding herself across Duke's lap; Val threw a leg up on the armrest of his chair. He ignored them both. Sebastian was still glaring at the girls, and Duke thought this would be a good time to make good on his promise to find Sebastian some company.

"You've all met Sebastian Hastings, right? He'll be starting in the first game on Saturday." Toby sneered his disbelief, and Cohen snorted into his drink at the introduction. Duke didn't care. Most of the girls at the party weren't too discriminating, but letting them know you were going to see playing time helped a lot. _'And I _will_ get him to first string, if it kills us both.'_

Jessica rose to the bait. "Really?" She wedged herself into the seat with him and trailed a finger down his neck. "You must be pretty good to make first string as a transfer."

"Uh…sure? I mean, I do okay." Sebastian look truly uncomfortable, and the rest of the boys were amused to no end. Jessica didn't seem put off in the least. "Um, ah…Can I get another drink?" She scampered off to find a refill, and Sebastian was visibly relieved.

Duke laughed. Jessica returned a few moments later, and Duke tuned the pair out when she and Sebastian began having some kind of conversation. Yuri wasn't all that interested in talking, and that was fine by him.

Life, for the moment at least, was good.

* * *

Life was good for another sixteen hours. Unfortunately, all good things come to and end, and so it followed that when Duke rolled out of bed around noon the next day, life was not so good. Sebastian was still asleep, snoring slightly, and the rest of the wing sounded quiet.

Duke failed to see how everyone else could sleep through the pounding in his head. It _had _to be loud enough to wake the dead. Was this from the blow yesterday afternoon or the lost-count-how-many drinks he'd added last night? Duke neither knew nor cared. Some aspirin would help either way.

He stood slowly, knowing that to move too fast would only send him spiraling to the floor. _'Ugh. This is the _last_ time I let Andrew handle the drinks.'_ Duke hoped his teammate was in just as much pain right now. Sunday lunch would only run for another hour or so, but the thought of pancakes and bacon made him sick to his stomach. Some aspirin and some Gatorade, he could handle. Maybe.

Without really thinking about it, Duke moved over the window to open the curtains. Big mistake. He let out an involuntary groan when hard afternoon sunlight came pouring into the room; Sebastian must have been near waking too, since he let out a similar cry at the intrusion. "Oh my God. Make it stop."

"We need to get up. Lunch is almost over and we still need to get some time on the field today."

"Ugh!" Sebastian rolled over and covered his head with a pillow. "Five more minutes."

If Duke had to suffer today, then sure as hell someone was going to suffer with him. From the sound of things, Sebastian was already feeling a little pain from last night too, but that didn't mean they could skip practicing today. There was less than a week until the Cornwall game, and although no one was going to mention it, everybody would be on edge. There would be no room for error.

"No." Duke pulled the comforter off Sebastian's bed, ignoring the protest. "We need to focus on footwork today. Practice this week is going to be hell already, and if you want to move up now, it'll be twice as hard. You've only got six days to go."

The reminder seemed to get through, and Sebastian sat up looking grumpy. "Sometimes I don't like you very much." He put a hand to his head. "Why'd you let me stay out so late?"

Despite his own headache, Duke cracked a smile. "Yeah, it was the staying out late that did it. Next time you 'stay out late', make sure you drink plenty of water afterwards."

Moving slowly, and with more than a few groans of pain, the two boys eventually wound their way out to the pitch. It was already mid-afternoon, and the heat was brutal. Duke would have rather been just about anywhere else, but he was determined not to let Sebastian down. He was going to blow everyone away this week, and Duke would force Dinklage to admit that he _and_ his team were great.

* * *

By Monday morning, both boys were sore but clear headed. Duke and Sebastian parted ways after breakfast for first period, making plans to stay late after practice for more work. He headed for his Literature class alone, struggling to recall what he'd covered two days before. This early morning start was going to be hell on his grades.

"Based on how well you all did on last week's quiz, I decided to give you a reprieve today. We're going to spend a little extra time going over the material, and I expect full marks from everyone on the next test." Duke slouched back in his seat, relieved, as the teacher went on to speak about the next exam. _'Score one for advanced lit.'_ He made a note to rub it in to Toby, Andrew, and Sebastian. No way would their English teacher ever cancel a quiz.

"At this point in Act IV, we once again meet Julia." The teacher continued. "Here, she has disguised herself as a young man named Sebastian in order to travel safely away from home and into Milan. Her new identity lets her stay close to Proteus, who still claims to be in love with another woman, but this also means that she ends up being asked to help Proteus win the affections of said woman. As you might expect, that doesn't turn out so well."

"Let's go over the scene. Proteus is about to ask for Julia's help. Duke!" He snapped to attention upon hearing his name, hoping that she wasn't going to ask him a question. Despite his resolve on Saturday, he hadn't quite kept up with the assignment. "Would you please read Proteus from the exit of Launce?" He turned back to his book and cleared his throat. He _hated_ doing this in front of everyone!

"Sebastian, I have entertained thee,

Partly that I have need of such a youth

That can with some discretion do my business,

For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout,

But chiefly for thy face and thy behavior,

Which, if my augury deceive me not,

Witness good bringing up, fortune and truth:

Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee.

Go presently and take this ring with thee,

Deliver it to Madam Silvia:

She loved me well deliver'd it to me."

This was exactly why Duke couldn't ever really get a grasp on Shakespeare. Sure, it had all the classic stuff about love and war or whatever, but half of everything depended on everyone being idiotic. He couldn't help but wonder how Sebastian would feel about a girl dressing up as a guy and using his name. How did no one notice that sort of thing, anyway? It wasn't like there weren't plenty of very noticeable differences between a girl and a guy!

Still, Duke supposed, it was worth remembering that not everybody was what they seemed. Maybe Ol' Bill had a point.

* * *

The locker room was quiet that afternoon, though not unusually so. Mondays tended to be low on moral, and with _that-game-they-weren't-worried-about_ only five days away very few people were in the mood to joke.

Dinklage ran them especially hard in drills for over an hour, but no one noticed or commented if they did. He'd made a brief announcement that Haimes had been bumped up to first-string, and let it be known in no uncertain terms that anyone who slacked off this week would find themselves warming the bench. It was an unneeded warning; everyone was there to work today. Even Sebastian was still on his feet, if breathing a little heavily, as Dinklage and the assistants halved the team for scrimmage.

A few minutes in, Cohen mimicked Sebastian's move from the previous week: faking a handoff to his left, and then driving straight downfield to the goal. Grillo didn't let it go as easily as he previously had, and stayed on his feet to cut him off. As he went for the steal, Cohen tried to out maneuver him. The result was ugly. Grillo stopped short to avoid being circled; Cohen's momentum carried him forward into a direct collision. Both boys went flying to the ground.

Grillo rolled away, brushing dirt from his jersey, and offered a hand to Cohen as they both stood.

"Shit!" The cry came out the second Cohen tried to step with his right foot, and his knee immediately buckled. "Give me a minute." He circled his foot once or twice, wincing. Dinklage lifted a hand to the trainer, calling him down to the field. Grillo and Bentley each got a shoulder under Cohen's arms, and helped him to the sideline. No one else moved. The trainer moved Cohen's ankle this way and that, pushing against a few spots to the boy's obvious discomfort. Cohen nodded at a question, and tried to stand under his own power again. It was immediately obvious, even from a distance, that it didn't work.

Though his face didn't show it, inside Duke was cringing. Cohen'd been first string center for two years. He had been injury prone since he was a freshman, but hadn't missed any games all last season. Cornwall would no doubt hear about this and press their attack accordingly. Cohen may not have been the best in the league, but he was a solid player and always had the team's best interest at heart.

But…_but…_

This might be exactly the thing he needed. _Someone_ was going to have to cover Cohen's spot, at least in practice. And it would probably be that someone who got the nod to start in that spot, if Cohen wasn't better by Saturday.

Duke felt sort of sick thinking it. It wasn't like he wanted Cohen _not_ to play; he just wanted Sebastian to be there too. He should have seen this coming earlier. Others had foreseen this conflict and knew it wasn't going to go well. Toby and Andrew's words from the previous week echoed back to him. _"You can't tell me you want to replace someone. 'Cause that's what'll happen if you keep this up…He's not looking out for the team." _

Had Toby been right all along? Was he letting his personal goals supersede what was best for the team? Right now, though, it was a moot point. If Cohen couldn't play, then he couldn't play. It was sort of lucky that they had someone capable and competent to replace him. Duke would ponder the morality of the fact that Cohen was hurt on one of Sebastian's moves later. Right now, he needed to find a way to use this turn of events to everyone's advantage. Dinklage would probably want to talk to him about this, and a private conversation about Sebastian might work better than a public campaign at this point.

The trainer and another assistant were escorting Cohen to the infirmary. Bad sign for him. Duke sighed.

"Okay, men. That's enough standing around. Get back to it." Dinklage never ended practice on an injury. Even if they were about to finish, he'd hold them on for another twenty minutes just to keep them from dwelling on it. For the most part, Duke appreciated that. If they lost confidence now, there would be precious little time to turn the tide before Saturday. "Hastings!"

Sebastian, who had been rotating positions in and out with some other second stringers, straightened his spine immediately. "Coach?"

"Play for Cohen. Don't get yourself killed." Sebastian smiled, just a bit, and jogged across the field to center. Dinklage remained grim as he blew the whistle once again. The game was back on.

Another hour later, the weary but determined group trudged off the grass in the direction of the locker room. Duke wasted no time getting showered and changed, and immediately planted himself in Dinklage's office. Monday's usual team meeting had been scrubbed in favor of practice, but Duke knew that he would be expected to catch up with the Coach. "You look as though you have something to say."

"Has there been any word on Cohen?" Duke asked out of both concern and personal interest. Dinklage's face turned even darker, if that were possible. That could only mean one thing and it wasn't good.

"No broken bones, as far as anyone could tell. Probably just another sprain, but it's hard to say how bad it was. Could need three days off, could need three weeks. They took him to St. Vincent's for an MRI. Trainer and the nurse said it could have been worse."

Duke sighed, but was undecided if it was one of relief or disappointment. The feeling threw him: just what kind of a captain was he? "What do you think? Will Cohen be okay for Cornwall?"

"I think we need be prepared. At this point, it would be wise to plan on someone else starting the game, as a matter of strategy as well as safety." That was new. In general, Dinklage ran them into the ground working on skills and technique. Considering personnel decisions for an opponent was one thing, but he rarely relied on deception. "Cornwall won't hesitate to take advantage of a new player. If someone else starts and Cohen can play later, so much the better. If not, then the sooner we know who's going in, the sooner that won't be an issue."

It made sense. And it meant that Dinklage would be ready to move someone up from the second string. "Coach-" Duke was practically squirming in his chair; how did he go about suggesting Sebastian? "There aren't a lot of guys prepared to step in at center so quickly."

"You don't think we have anyone who could handle it?" Duke was convinced he was being baited once again. Dinklage knew as well as he did who wanted to play center.

For once in his life, Duke was prepared with a response. And strangely enough, it was the truth too. "I think the proof is on the field. There are some guys putting in the time and effort to move up, and I think that means they're able to handle greater responsibility."

Dinklage raised an eyebrow. If Duke wasn't mistaken, the man was impressed. Mental sigh of relief, followed by a small amount of elation. The plan was working. Dinklage was thinking more highly of him, and Sebastian was going to get bumped up, if all proceeded smoothly. Hell, if things kept going this well, maybe Sebastian would never even need to know about his ulterior motives for getting involved in this.

"I know we don't have a lot of time until the Cornwall game, and I know there are guys that have been waiting longer…" He could honestly say this now, and feel like he was doing the right thing. Without Cohen, Sebastian _was_ their best bet. He wasn't vain about it, but Duke knew that he had taught his roommate very well. "But I think Hastings deserves some consideration. He's been out on the field for hours every day after practice working on drills." The unspoken addendum, of course, was that in order to know that Duke had to have been there too. Dinklage nodded in his usual, noncommittal way.

"I'll pick someone in the next day or two and let you know." That was probably as good as he could ask for, right now. "Do you have anything else?" Normally Duke took that as a dismissal, but there was one thing that had been weighing on his mind since it came up Saturday night.

"Sir, some of the guys have been noticing someone hanging around our practices a lot." He wasn't going to rat out Malcolm directly (though Lord knows Malcolm wouldn't hesitate to do so with him), but that didn't mean he couldn't set the boy up. "It's probably nothing, but you know, a lot of other schools haven't started classes, so they may not be…completely reigned in, just yet. I thought you'd like to keep an eye out." Dinklage initially had looked sort of surprised, but by the time Duke finished speaking, his face said he knew what was up.

"I'll speak to the headmaster about Festes."

"Thanks. We'd all appreciate it."

* * *

Einstein once explained the theory of relativity in terms that Duke could easily understand: "Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."

So dreading the end of classes as he was, it wasn't surprising that the day was one of the fastest in his memory, even though his Tuesday began painfully early with more practice at 5am and continued with a workout after class. He was sure that the hour he would be spending in debutante land later this evening would seem like an eternity, too. Chalk one up to quantum physics.

The potential bright spot in his day was meeting Sebastian. Practice that morning had gone well, despite the announcement that Cohen wouldn't be able to practice for the rest of the week. He'd play sparingly on Saturday, if at all. Veterans of the team glanced to one another uncertainly, knowing that this was a major blow to their chances, but Sebastian and a few others paid attention to what that really meant: someone was going to be moved up. It was practically unheard of for two second-stringers to be made starters even before the first game. Duke knew that he was getting _extremely_ lucky.

Assuming, of course, that it turned out to be Sebastian that got the nod. Otherwise, he was _extremely_ screwed.

This was his chance, though. Sebastian was already on the field warming up when Duke exited the locker room, stretching and preparing for another long afternoon. Once again, Duke appreciated how seriously Sebastian was taking their practice time. He made a mental note to snag Sebastian a practice jersey _or anything_ else to wear out here, though. People were going to start to talk if he kept walking around wearing Cornwall blue. There were more than enough suspicions going around already. Where would he even get a Cornwall sweatshirt around here anyway?

As he squinted up towards the stands, he was also pretty sure that he saw Dinklage walking around in the announcer's booth. _'Good. That means Sebastian can lock up his spot this afternoon.'_ It was time to get some more attention.

Duke hauled the bag of practice balls out to the middle of the field as Sebastian looked on, confused. "We're going to need all of these?"

"Yup." Duke grinned. He'd learned the hard way that practicing volleys went a lot easier if you didn't have to chase down a ball after every attempt. "You'll appreciate it later. Do you remember the stuff we went over for the bicycle kick?"

Sebastian winced at the memory, and Duke didn't blame him. His first attempt at teaching might have been overshooting a bit, and Sebastian had walked stiffly for some time afterwards. He didn't plan on going back to that today, but it would help if Sebastian recalled the sequence. He shouldn't have a problem with any of this and it was challenging enough that Dinklage would take note, but the less he fell on his ass the better.

Sebastian had gotten pretty good at handling the ball on the field, so Duke had decided the day before to take things up a level. Literally. Volley kicks weren't extremely common in their league, but Cornwall was a good team (though it killed him to admit it) and the opportunity would probably come up. Duke picked up a ball from the sack next to them, and indicated Sebastian should do the same. "This is easier than the bicycle kick, but it still needs some of the timing. Watch, and then we'll try it."

Duke tossed the ball into the air, carefully eyeing the height of the ensuing bounce. He swung his leg just in time to connect with the rebounding ball, plowing it straight ahead into the back of the goal. After pausing a moment to watch the ball drop to the ground once again, he turned to Sebastian. The smaller boy nodded and attempted the same kick, but threw too much momentum into his foot and ending up missing and spinning around in a circle. Duke grinned in response; at least Sebastian wasn't throwing himself randomly into the ground anymore. Signs of progress.

However, it was a fairly common mistake and one Duke knew how to correct. "Instead of trying to overcompensate with you leg, make sure you're moving your upper body in the right direction too." He suggested, emphasizing it by repeating his own arm movement. "Try it again." Sebastian practiced it, and then Duke told him to add the kick back in, but he was met with the same results. Duke circled his roommate as he tried again, trying to isolate the problem. _'Sebastian is definitely capable of learning this; what's his problem?'_ Maybe he was botching it on purpose. _'No! Stop that. Why would he even be here if he didn't want to get it right?'_ Duke demonstrated once more, calling his roommate's attention to all parts of the movement.

But regardless of the reason, Sebastian was still unable to control his kick. Maybe it wasn't the coordination, but the kick itself that was the problem. Duke tossed his ball to Sebastian. "Okay, keep your eyes on me this time. I'm going to break it down even further." Sebastian nodded.

"The kick is always in smooth motion, but that doesn't mean it's _only_ one motion. Don't just use your entire leg; bring up your knee first, then your heel. You'll find it easier when you're actually in motion, because running forward builds right into it. Your knee is making the same move, at first." He brought up his knee a few times and then continued the motion into the full kick.

Duke spent the next hour or so going over the same motions with Sebastian, making a point to ensure that he was getting the right control, height and speed at every step. Dinklage was no doubt watching, and minimizing the mistakes was critical today, even if it meant moving at a slower pace. The work paid off though, as Sebastian nailed the goal three times in a row as the shadows grew longer on the field.

The sun dipped behind a pack of trees behind the edge of the pitch, and the area beneath it was thrown into Duke's peripheral vision as the glare abated. A tiny bit of movement, unnoticed under the sun, now caught his attention. Malcolm was watching them again. _'He's a loser, but not someone who wastes time easily. He has a reason for being here.'_ Careful not to let on that he'd spotted anything amiss, Duke called to Sebastian. "Alright, try it one more time." In a lower voice he continued, "This time, aim for the bushes." The other boy looked to the brush, and smirked. He saw the same thing.

Sebastian tossed the ball, expertly executing the kick. The ball sailed left of the net, and straight into its intended target. The icing on the cake was watching Malcolm, unprepared for the hit, get sent spiraling backwards into the ditch. Karma at work once again.

However, the changing shadows meant Duke was pressing his luck with time, especially since he had to drive back home to pick up clothes before photos tonight. But he couldn't convince himself to actually go. It wasn't hard to make the choice between debutantes and soccer. Still, after going over forward and side kicks, in addition to their regular drills, Duke couldn't put things off anymore. He glanced at his watch, and admitted he should have been on the road at least twenty minutes ago. _'Damn, guess I'm going to be late. What a shame.'_

"Alright, man, I've got to go. My mom's going to bitch as it is. Are you ready to hit the showers?"

He wasn't all that surprised when Sebastian just shrugged. "I think I'll keep at it for a little while. I want to nail this down for practice tomorrow."

Dinklage was standing in the door to the announcer's booth as Duke jogged off the field. _'Perfect.'_ Though the coach looked impassive, Duke knew that the fact that he was still watching said a lot. The two shared a glance as Duke headed for the locker room, and unrepentant grin met a single raised eyebrow. _'I _know _he's great.'_

* * *

He hadn't sped on his way home, had dawdled at every opportunity, and even considered stopping at Cesario's for a slice before admitting that might be pushing his time a little too far. A Burger King with a conveniently long drive-through line sufficed.

Yet nothing managed to stop him from eventually reaching the house. Duke pulled the keys from the ignition, but sat there in silence for a moment. The red brick house hadn't changed much outside in all the years he'd been there, and it didn't look much different now. It was the inside, he knew, that bore the brunt of his mother's emotional upheavals.

When last he rushed out the door, calling a good-bye over his shoulder, the rooms had all been bare and the floors covered with plastic in preparation for painting. Duke wasn't sure what to expect today. He told himself that he would only be there for a few minutes; he just needed to change and leave again. Deep down, though, he knew that he'd probably spend more time than he wanted wandering the halls and hoping for some sign that his mother was sane again.

He swung the door open with half a wince on his face, ready to see the worst. Last time his mother went through post-breakup redecorating everything ended up in traditional Victorian décor. Duke had felt dizzy walking in for months, and it had taken even longer to gradually get rid of all of it. Today, however, surprise warred with confusion. He blinked once or twice, convinced that it was simply glare from the sun he was seeing.

Not the case. The floors, the walls and ceiling were entirely white. _Everything_ was white; kitchen appliances, living room furniture, the curtains. Not any kind of almost-white, ecru, eggshell or off-white, but pure, bleached, absolutely-nothing-else-for-it _white._ Some dark spots in the hallway caught his eye, and he moved further into the house. They rarely put up too many pictures anymore, but the series of him in soccer uniform that usually had hung in front hall been taken down, replaced with some kind of artwork that looked to be created by a two-year old with a lot of time and finger-paint.

This wasn't his house; it was a museum.

From shocked stillness, he suddenly bolted to his room. The oppressive nothingness of the first-floor unnerved him, and the second story offered little relief. Thankfully, his own room appeared to have escaped the whitewashing, at least for now. It was still missing all of its furniture (it had been picked out by the latest ex and therefore had to go), but at least the dark carpet and maize colored walls still felt like _home_, when the rest of his house made him feel like he should have a docent with him. His most important personal affects and much of his clothing had made the trip to Illyria with him, but he was fairly relieved to see that what remained hadn't been torched or "re-organized". With the exception of the suit hanging on the closet door, everything appeared untouched. Piles of books and summer clothing, still awaiting a new desk and dresser, were strewn across the floor. Duke knew that pretty soon his mother would force him home for a weekend to go furniture shopping. He'd rather put in a week's worth of Dinklage's practices.

With a shrug, he pulled the clothes off their hangers to change. The suit wouldn't have been his first choice, but at least it wasn't as elaborate as whatever he was certain the girls would have to wear.

One potential, if unwilling, debutante escort coming up.

* * *

The Stratford Junior League held all their meetings and most non-public events at their local headquarters; a huge colonial style house-turned-office just down the road from the Stratford Country Club. The local DAR chapter, Stratford for the Arts society, and several other organizations were all located in similar buildings in the area. Privately, Duke felt that this had been arranged because much of the membership required a round of drinks at the club before and/or after the meetings in order to get along. He knew that he would if he were required to be here all the time.

The parking lot was small and crowded when he arrived, and he found himself wishing he could have taken his bike. It would have been worth a lot to him to take in the look on his mother's face as he arrived on it. Instead, he parked in the space "Reserved for President" and considered it his due. His mom could walk over from the Club, if she hadn't already arrived with someone else.

The inside was chaos. Girls were dashing back and forth across the foyer in various states of dress; the scent of hair products polluted the air and made his eyes water. Everyone was wearing the same gown for the photos: a slinky, white, off the shoulder number that fell to the floor. Duke guessed that it was pretty, but between the girls with fake tans (who looked orange) and the ones who'd never wasted their time outside for day in their lives (who looked sickly), nobody stood out to him.

He stood uselessly in the entry way for a moment, trying to determine where he could go to get in and out as soon as possible. Thankfully he wouldn't need to hang around for the group photo practice, so if he could just locate the photographer he might be able to leave before his mom caught up with him.

No such luck.

"Where have you _been_? You're half an hour late!" His mother caught him off guard coming down the stairs, cutting through the chaos with great skill. "I've been beside myself waiting! Hurry up into the dining room; the rest of the boys are about through, so you should be able to squeeze in at the end." _'Thank God. Maybe I'll be able to get out of here quickly.'_ "Don't leave without talking to Daphne or me." _'Dammit.' _"We need to get your height written down and find out if any-"

"Cheryl!" One of the JL lackeys burst through another set of doors, frantically looking around for her fearless leader. "We're missing Viola Hastings, and one of our girls just burst the zipper on her dress…we need your expertise."

"Oh, dear." Duke tried to contain a smile as his mother's face fell. "I'll call Daphne. Cindy, call the caterer for Friday's luncheon and make sure there's plenty of salad arranged, hmm? We don't want to have to go through anymore last minute fittings again." The two of them made a hurried exit; his mother pointed fiercely across the hall to the dining room as she left.

He peeked into the dining room cautiously; well aware that Justin Drayton or any number of his friends might be around. Two other boys dressed to the nines were standing behind a photographer as a third tried to look "dashing" as instructed. All vaguely familiar, but none from Cornwall. Duke nodded politely to them, and immediately began counting seconds until he could leave. It took about fifteen minutes for the other boys to finish up; the photographer's assistant was just about to usher him into the spotlight when the doors were abruptly thrown open.

"I'm here, I'm here! Sorry I'm late! I couldn't-" The apology was cut short as the new arrival came to realize the room was all but empty. Duke recognized her instantly, though it took a few seconds for him to react.

"…Viola?" _'You idiot. Can't you think of anything better to say?' _He wanted to impress her, to say something cool and funny. But she was standing there with the same smile she'd had at the carnival (_'For the love of God, I can't think about that now!' _) and the white dress he'd seen on the other girls in the hall. It looked entirely different on her: her skin looked like it was practically glowing. Ethereal.

"Did I miss everything?" Her voice was too hopeful, and it made Duke chuckle.

"No, sorry. I… I think you're across the hall."

Viola cringed and nodded. "Damn. I heard my mom over there and I was sort of hoping to avoid her. I swore up and down I'd never put on a dress like this and she's never going to let me forget it."

'_You look gorgeous. I'll never forget it either.'_ "Oh." He was trying to say something else; maybe that he'd like to take her out someplace nice for dinner and she could wear that dress again. That she should change out of it right now and never wear it again because it was terribly dangerous in her possession. "You- I think- You look nice."

Viola looked surprised, but beamed. "You really think so?"

Duke nodded, not trusting himself to make a competent reply. He wanted to take Sebastian's advice and try to have an actual conversation with her, but the idea of totally blowing it terrified him.

'_Do you like cheese?_' He had to stop himself from making a face at the thought. Why hadn't he insisted Sebastian give him something normal to talk about? He was just about to open his mouth and make a fool of himself when Viola interrupted.

"So…I, uh, guess you had a good time at the carnival on Saturday." Her tone wasn't very pleasant, and it sent him into a panic. Sebastian's encouragement, he realized, didn't necessarily mean he spoke for the girl herself. Did she hate him for getting her busted, for fighting with her ex while he'd been thinking of nothing but her? "I heard you were there with your _girlfriend_."

'_Oh, Jesus. How did _Viola _hear about that?'_ "What? No! No, it's not like that. I helped a dog, and that was it." Her eyebrow quirked and she looked mildly offended once again. Duke was convinced he was never going to get through a conversation with her without making an ass of himself. "No! That's not what I meant. I mean, you- that- that was great." _'Shit.'_ He was losing his mind; that was the only explanation. He got proof of it with his next sentence, the only thing he could put together that would take her mind off the carnival altogether. "Do you like cheese?"

Her head tilted slightly, like that was some especially sweet piece of flattery, but nothing that implied he was a moron. "Are you kidding me?"_ 'Sebastian, did you set me up for this? I hate you.'_ "I love my pizza plain with double cheese. Drives my friends nuts. I've been trying to get them to eat it for years." '…_And I really owe you.'_

Duke grinned; more out of relief that she didn't just walk away from him in disgust than anything else. He couldn't believe this was actually becoming a conversation. "No way. I know the best cheese pizza place in the world. Cesario's can make anyone a fan."

Viola was also grinning, shoulders swaying from side to side slightly as her cheeks flushed a bit. "Yeah?"

Seized by what he could only call insanity, Duke gathered up his courage and prepared to leap. "You know, later on I-"

"VIOLA! Where _are_ you?" Daphne walked into view from the room across the hall, stopping short when she found her quarry. "_There_ you are! Move it! We're running far too late as it is."

The girl in question looked up and held his eyes, slowly backing out of the room while her minder tried to drag her away. "I guess I have to get going…We're supposed to practice for the group photo, but- oomph!" Not watching behind her, she backed straight into the door frame, giving an awkward giggle as she did so. "Well, look at that. Who put that there?" She abruptly turned and fled across the hall.

Duke sighed as he watched her throw open another set of doors and announce her presence to the room. She did nothing halfway, he had to admit. Most debutantes had that kind of personality drained out of them.

The photographer was shaking his head when Duke turned back around. "Good luck with that one, kid."

* * *

Hours later, Duke lay in bed unable to sleep. Too many questions, too many possibilities. Would Dinklage revise his opinion of Duke? Would Sebastian get the starting position? What would happen if he didn't? And if their deal concerned Duke so much, why did he very nearly ask Viola out on a date only hours ago?

Frustrated, he flipped his pillow over to the cool side and rolled to face the window. It didn't help.

It bothered him, the lengths he was willing to go to in order to seek Dinklage's approval. He didn't really like misleading Sebastian about his motivation. Coming clean probably wouldn't cause all that much of a problem- Sebastian had no reason to care about his motive- but still he held back. He felt a little ashamed of how readily he was willing to use a teammate to help himself. And a little ashamed of how much the coach's esteem meant to him.

He'd had plenty of step-fathers in his life, spent all of primary school under some of the best teachers in the country. But for all the men his mother fell for, and all her choosiness for teachers and schools, Coach Dinklage was someone _he'd_ chosen. He _chose_ Illyria, and _chose _to play here, under this man. The coach didn't care about his mother (in four years, still hadn't met her) or her strange phases. Their relationship, professional and challenging though it may be, was determined by just them.

Duke didn't want to screw that up. He wanted to prove that he was good enough to someone who cared about it. To a man in his life that knew what he was capable of achieving.

Even though nerves kept him guessing about what Dinklage might be thinking, Duke knew that there really weren't too many options for the new starter. Sebastian was the only guy who played center field that had been showing any real promise. It was practically a lock, in all honesty, considering the time Dinklage had spent observing them yesterday. He should feel relief over this, not insomnia.

It was a strange paradox, now, Duke realized. He'd been concerned over how Sebastian might react if he didn't make starter, and now found himself wondering what would happen if he did.

Would he still try to set him up with Olivia? Probably. Sebastian was a good guy; he'd follow through. Was that still what Duke wanted? Maybe, a little at least. He was still convinced Olivia largely disliked him on grounds of being a soccer player, and he felt the need to defend that. It just didn't have the same pressing need as in the past.

So why had he been ready to ask Viola out?

'_Because I like her.'_ That much was obvious. _'And I like Olivia too.'_ A date with either one wouldn't be the end of the world. It wasn't a marriage proposal. It might help clear things up really; maybe one or the other would be really boring, have some kind of annoying habit, or turn into a real bitch once he knew her better. Or less of a bitch, as the case may be.

He couldn't imagine Viola acting the way, say, Sebastian's ex had at Cesario's, or Olivia had in the dorm last week. But if Olivia could be so judgmental, it was possible…Yet Viola spoke to him like what he said was worth listening to, even if he knew it wasn't. She'd always been kind and interesting.

The only real way to find out if going out with Viola would be worth it was to go out with her. He'd been willing to actually ask the question, and that was a step beyond just about _any_ girl he'd been interested in. It wouldn't be much harder to do it again. They could get a pizza, probably talk about soccer if nothing else. She was a great kisser, he already knew, but he'd also been impressed by her tenacity and liveliness.

"_She's got a great personality." _One of the first things he'd learned about her. Toby and Andrew were going to freak out once they heard about this. In fact, it would be smart to wait until after the Cornwall game to even think about it.

But he didn't want to. He wanted to know, _right now_, what a date with Viola would be like. Except that he didn't know where she lived or how to call her.

So why was he so nervous about it?

* * *

The jury was still out on the official replacement decision Wednesday afternoon. Duke knew even Dinklage must be having trouble with it because he delayed practice for an hour and banished them all to the weight room instead of the pitch. It wasn't entirely unheard of for the Coach to assign them workout time, but it had never happened the week before the Cornwall game, or so early in the year. This was going to go down in the books as the strangest opening to a season in Illyria's history.

Although he liked the routine and effort weightlifting required, Duke hated the change-up for several reasons. The captain in him panicked at the thought of the scrambled practice time; the more human element was dying for Dinklage to recognize his ability to bring Sebastian up to par. He wanted to be a great captain. He hated sitting around waiting for it to happen.

Sebastian, by contrast, was infuriatingly calm as they walked to the locker room to drop off their equipment for later. Duke sort of wanted to hit him and wipe the dreamy look off his face. _'What is he staring at?' _ He must be pretty convinced that he had the spot locked up. _'Would Dinklage say something to him about it and not tell me?'_ It hurt more than he expected that Sebastian might know and not say anything, too.

"You seem pretty calm considering today's your big chance." Duke remarked.

Sebastian shook himself back into awareness. "Well, you know. We've done our best. I mean, I'll be disappointed if I don't get to play, but maybe there are more important things." Duke failed to hide his surprise, and Sebastian hurried to continue. "I mean, I couldn't have done any of this without you, and I'm really grateful for all your help. But as much as _I_ want to kick Cornwall's ass, I'm also proud of how much I've learned here and now I really just want the team to win. And I think I'll do everything I can to stick around long enough to make first string for real at some point this year." Toby, who was pulling out his lifting gloves behind Sebastian, looked momentarily surprised.

Duke just laughed. "What, were you planning on getting kicked out of Illyria too?" Sebastian only grinned mysteriously.

"Not anymore."

They continued in silence back to the main gymnasium, until a voice echoed down the hallway just outside the weight room doors. "Hey, Sebastian! Dude, wait up a minute!"

Andrew caught up with them a second later, holding a red sweatshirt in his hand. Toby followed behind. "Here. This is for you, so you don't have to wear that heinous blue thing anymore." He held up an Illyria sweatshirt proudly. "We sort of overheard you in the locker room, and since we haven't really been helping you out a whole lot either…" He trailed off, and Toby finished the thought. "Look, you're probably our best chance to replace Cohen this weekend. We've been sort of stuck up about it, but we're glad to have you on the team. As a starter, even."

"You know that may not happen, right?" Sebastian responded cautiously. It wasn't a secret that Toby had been staunchly opposed to making any of the new guys first-stringers, and Duke was glad to see him come around. He'd been perfectly happy being friends with Sebastian until the whole thing with making him a starter began, and Duke hoped that would return. He didn't need any more battles.

Andrew shrugged. "Maybe not. But we kinda wanted to offer a belated welcome aboard. Since, you know, you don't have a practice jersey or anything." He handed the shirt over as awkward silence filled the air. No one wanted to comment on why Sebastian lacked one. "And I was serious. You keep wearing that Cornwall stuff around here and we'll kick your ass." Sebastian grinned and pulled it on.

The encounter didn't do anything to ground Sebastian though, and it was pretty clear only a few minutes into the workout that both of them were having trouble concentrating on the task at hand. He shared a lot of the confidence everyone seemed to have in Sebastian, and knowing that it wouldn't create World War III within the team helped a lot. But it didn't do anything to keep his mind off of Viola, either. He'd never be able to stick it to Cornwall if this kind of distraction kept up. _'I probably won't even see her until the game.'_ He added another set of weights, and began a second set of reps. _'But I can't go the rest of the week like this. I'm already too out of it.' _He had tried to avoid thinking about her, but that clearly wasn't helping.

So he needed to talk to Viola, and the sooner the better. The game was three days away, and there was no way he could risk losing more practice time. He knew she liked pizza and soccer, so an invitation to dinner might not be out of place. It wouldn't really be a _date_…just a sort of gage for date potential. It was middle of the week; Cesario's wouldn't be too crowded and Viola wouldn't have started classes yet, so she should be able to come... But would she be interested? Maybe she already had a date.

He didn't know for sure, but he certainly knew someone who did. He felt pathetic. He couldn't even _look_ at Sebastian as he asked it. "Umm…how's your sister?"

"Whew! Good." Sebastian replaced his own barbell and sat up. "Why?" He appreciated that Sebastian was so casual about it. Toby or Andrew, if they had been paying attention, wouldn't have missed the opportunity to rib him for the lame question.

"I don't know…" Duke trailed off. He didn't want to make it seem too big of a deal. "I kind of was thinking…I might…" _'Out with it, already!'_ "Ask if she wanted to grab dinner at Cesario's tonight." It sounded casual enough to him. Distinctly not a date. Just dinner, with a girl. That he liked. A lot.

"You were? Really?" Sebastian sounded honestly surprised, but happy about it too. Considering that her last boyfriend was Justin Drayton, Duke felt like he'd be happy his sister might go out with someone new too. _'Let's hope that means he's still okay with me going out with her.'_ Now that he'd put the thought out there, he knew it was the right thing to do. He could practically already see himself asking Viola to get some dinner tonight; she'd smile and glance down at her shoes, but her response would be almost immediate: "I'd love to." He swore he could actually hear her voice.

Duke chided himself for being so easily distracted; Sebastian had said something and he'd totally missed it. "What?"

"I'd love to give her your phone number…" Give her his number? Sebastian's protective brother instincts must be rearing their head again. Duke wanted to be the one to call her, to be able to ask her out and know for sure. What if she got his number and never called him? What if Sebastian had only been pretending to be okay with things, but had changed his mind now that it might happen?

"Hastings!"

The low-level hum of activity dropped to near silence, but nobody wanted to make it obvious they were watching. Sebastian stood nervously as the coach approached. This was it.

Duke saw the flash of red behind the man's back before Sebastian did, and immediately felt flush with relief. _'We did it. God only knows how, but we did it!'_ Dinklage held up a jersey that spoke the confirmation for itself. _Hastings, 13._ Nevertheless, he spoke up for the benefit of the entire room. "You're first string for the Cornwall game." A conditional promotion. He'd have to outplay Cohen to keep the spot after the game, but it didn't concern either boy in the slightest. They had done what they set out to do.

Sebastian was having a hard time soaking it in. "Really?" It was a softer voice than Duke had ever heard from him, and it seemed like maybe he was about to cry.

Dinklage must have noticed too, since he immediately stiffened. "No. I was joking, you _idiot!_" And then he was gone, stalking off to examine the progress of other players. It was a typical 'welcome to the family moment' from him. Sebastian froze, mouth agape, as he let the knowledge sink in.

"Dude, that's awesome." _'Now give me your sister's number.' _ He gave Sebastian a congratulatory thump on the back but, true to form, remembered a moment too late that Sebastian was the hugging type. _'Damn it. How many times is he going to _do that_?' _ It had been one of the very first things about Sebastian that annoyed him. No wonder Gold was always trying to talk to the guy. Duke was once again convinced that his initial thoughts on the two were correct; they must get along great. He tried not too let it bother him- it was Sebastian's moment, after all- but the happy-huggy-emotional stuff didn't suit him at all.

Even so, it took a minute for him to pull away. Sebastian's hair smelled exactly like…_'Oh shit. What the hell am I doing?' _"Dude!" He was thinking about the guy's sister and just imagining things. That had to be it.

He returned to his bench as Sebastian straightened up. "So, you want me to spot you?"

'_Are you kidding me?' _"No!" _'I want you to give me your sister's phone number.'_ Sebastian didn't return to his weights, likely unable to concentrate. Duke sympathized as he lifted his own barbell for another set. He probably should really have someone spotting him right now; thinking about Viola didn't do much to keep him focused and his luck would be to injure himself right before the game too. _'One…two…three.' _ If that happened, aside from not playing, he wouldn't get the chance to track down Viola on gameday. Or go out with her beforehand. _'Four…five…' _It just took little thoughts of her to send him racing, the lack of control both irritated and excited him. The nervous energy forced him to press on, barely feeling the weight. _'Six…seven…' _Her pretty smile in that white dress. _'Eight…nine…' _ Her soft lips at the carnival. _'Ten…eleven..' _ A bright laugh on the phone. _'Twelve…thirteen.'_ Everything made him feel…different. _'Fourteen…'_ Even the night he'd first spoken to her on the phone, he'd been ready to believe her voice could set his feet tingling. _'Fifteen..'_ He couldn't stand it any longer. He just wanted to call her. _'Sixteen.' _"Why don't you want me to have her number?"

"What? No- I don't. I mean, I don't _not _want you to…It's just…" Sebastian seemed to think for a minute, and then shrugged. "I just thought it would be easier. She has… kind of a weird schedule. I wanted to make sure she could talk. Are we still going to put in extra practice time today?"

It sounded reasonable enough, but Duke still felt uneasy. _'Seventeen…eighteen.' _He really didn't want cause problems. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" _'Nineteen…'_

"_Yes!_ I mean, yeah. It'll be…cool." Sebastian reached into his duffle for his phone, and fiddled with it for a minute. "I'll put her number into your phone for you. You won't even have to worry about it."

"Thanks, man." _'…Twenty.' _The tension that spurred him on now left like magic. Duke sat up, breathing heavily.

"So, uh, you should call Viola up." Sebastian was honestly smiling now, clearly enjoying himself. The happiness was contagious and Duke almost immediately smiled back.

"Yeah, I think I will." He swiped his phone from where Sebastian had placed it on the floor, not intending to waste another moment. His good intentions were all for naught. His eyes were involuntarily drawn upward as a shadow fell over the phone, and a voice cut through his foggy brain.

"Hey, Duke."

He'd heard those words before; thoughtlessly in passing, as an accusation when she wanted to complain about her brother or boyfriend. But the way they sounded just now, _like she just wanted to talk to him_, was a first. Duke immediately stood out of surprise. He _must_ be imagining things.

'_Damn, her voice is pretty.'_ "Olivia…" He blinked, mentally trying to calm himself. He'd never keep himself together to talk to Viola if this went badly. Why now, of all times, did Olivia decide to talk to him?

She was saying something, he knew, but couldn't tell what. Sebastian's voice was also buzzing in his ear, and he just wanted both of them to shut up. Sebastian seemed to think that he was going to call Viola with both of them standing right there. Riiight.

When asked about it later, Duke couldn't remember a word that he said or heard in the conversation. He stumbled through, he knew, but the words were just being pulled out of air. He was half convinced that the entire encounter was a figment of his imagination anyway.

The trill of his phone, still in hand, snapped him somewhat back to awareness. He looked at the display quickly. _Viola- cell. _Sebastian worked fast. It was a good sign that she wanted to talk to him, right?

'_No! Nothing good can come from this.' _Olivia's strange behavior already had him off-balance. No way could he handle both of these girls at once. Still, what if this were his only chance to talk to Viola?

"Hello?" For Olivia's benefit, he tried to act as he imagined Sebastian might; some kind of cool player who could handle so many women at once. He knew he failed.

But Viola's voice only threw him more. He was vaguely aware that she had spelled out everything he intended to ask her: phone call, dinner, tonight. But Olivia was _right there_. And for once, for the very first time ever, she was looking at him like she wanted him around. He felt like it was hard to move; his entire body was filled with lead. What the hell was he supposed to do? Both Viola and Olivia seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, and he had no clue what to give either of them. Things had seemed so much simpler back when Olivia hated him and Viola's voice made his feet quiver.

Duke knew he was babbling incoherently. _'What am I supposed to be doing again?'_ He needed to take control. Get Viola off the phone. Say something understandable to Olivia. What was his problem?

He'd managed to hang up the phone (somewhere deep down, he knew he'd probably have to call her back and apologize for sounding like someone who'd just had a lobotomy.), but was at a loss from there. He needed help.

Help came in the form of his roommate, as always. Sebastian must have been watching, since he took that moment to jar Duke back into reality. Olivia scuttled back a bit, and suddenly the air was clearer and breathable. Duke felt furious with himself for being unable to pull away.

"What about that _thing_ that we talked about that you were doing later?" Sebastian was probably trying to get him back into normal conversation territory, but did he really think that Duke was going to skip out on Viola or Olivia for soccer practice? He already had his spot on the team!

"What thing?" He kept his eyes on Olivia. Even if he were acting like a moron, at least he could prove he was paying attention. "I'm thingless." Her lips were so close…it would be pretty easy to eliminate the distance. For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to do it. _'You didn't have a problem with this on Saturday…'_

Her next words were proof that he wasn't, in fact, hallucinating. He was never this kind to himself. "Great. It's a date. Cesario's at eight o'clock."

No one in the room would let him forget his reaction for years to come. He thought it would be worth it. Crazy ass dancing had worked for Sebastian in practice a week ago. _'Yes!'_ So maybe it wasn't a date with Viola, but it would still help him with his problem. He would know, one way or the other, if sticking with Olivia was a good move. That called for some celebration, even if it meant he was dancing around like an idiot in full view of his teammates, roommate, and coach. "You did it! I'm goin' out with Olivia."

Rather than share in his good fortune, Sebastian unsurprisingly turned Big Brother on him again. "What the hell? I thought you liked Viola now!" It was almost exactly what he'd said the night of Allgood's party, and Duke reminded Sebastian of his own words too. "Dude, come on. _You're a guy_." He was in too good of a mood to let Sebastian's pathetic attempt at a morality lecture get to him. The boy needed to lighten up a little; who'd have thought? "What would you do if the hottest girl in school came up to you and asked you on a date?" _'Maybe that _is_ his problem…It's not him. Stop it! He's just being a good brother. Isn't he?'_

Sebastian took off and Duke wasn't exactly sorry to see him go. Killjoy.

Viola's number was still displayed on his phone. He tried to redial it, but only received the default robotic-sounding voicemail message. Damn.

* * *

Duke wanted to retreat to his room shortly thereafter, but stopped to beg for help. He knew himself well enough to know that he didn't have a prayer of getting through the night alone. He was certain to do something that would piss Olivia off, or make her think he was insane. It was a startling amount of pressure, and he couldn't help but wonder if preparing for a date with Viola would be the same. Time to call in reinforcements, such as they were.

Andrew and Toby were still standing nearby, both grinning. "Man, that was pretty sweet." Toby came over and gave him a high five. "I've never seen Olivia do that."

"Me neither. You must be on it today." Andrew leered, tilting his head toward the door where Olivia left.

Duke wanted to shake his head, but decided that might hurt his case. "What are you two doing tonight?" _'It's a sad state of affairs when I'm asking these two.'_

Toby caught on immediately. "Oh, hell no. I'm not going to give up my night just because you're totally useless on your own. Get Sebastian to babysit you."

Andrew laughed. "I'm in. I wouldn't miss this for the world. It's going to be a disaster of epic proportions and I want to say I was there." Toby chuckled in response, and Duke gave him a shove to the shoulder. He hadn't expected any better, but that didn't mean he was going to let it go.

"Fine." Toby conceded. "But you owe me."

Duke nodded and made for the door, carefully avoiding Dinklage. He _had_ to track down Sebastian. Toby had a point; Sebastian was good at this sort of thing. If he could convince him to show up at Cesario's tonight too, then he might stand a chance. Both he and Olivia were long gone from the hallway, but Duke thankfully managed to arrive back at the dorm just in time to see Sebastian pull out his keys. He sprinted the last few feet out of desperation.

"You have to help me, man."

Sebastian jumped in surprise, but immediately looked concerned. "Hey, I was just looking for you. About tonight, I-"

Duke didn't wait for him to finish. Whatever plans he'd made for the evening would just have to change. No way was he going to bomb this date. "You have to come tonight!"

"I- huh?" Sebastian stopped short, seemingly unconcerned with being interrupted. "You _want_ me to tag along?" He was confused by the invite, clearly, but Duke didn't care how pathetic he sounded.

"Yes! You have to. What am I going to talk about all night?" _'Cheese?' _"_You_ can keep the conversation going. Hell, bring your own date. There have to be a thousand girls here who would die to go out tonight." There was a horrible pause; time stood still for eons as Duke waited for an answer.

Sebastian nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want." Duke let go of the breath he'd been holding. There wasn't any guarantee that this would be a success (_'Do I even want it to be a success?'_), but this would give him the best shot. Olivia wasn't always predictable around him, and surely having Sebastian there to push things along would smooth everything over. If she acted anything like she had in the gym though, maybe he wouldn't even need the assist.

* * *

Toby and Andrew knocked on his door and cackled madly at 7:30, saying they were going ahead to get the best seats. Sebastian swung the door open and shouted back at them down the hall; something to do with a crippling lack of female company in their lives. All of this was white noise to Duke. He was once again staring in the mirror, wondering. Sebastian had made him change his shirt twice. They'd argued over the formality of the occasion and he'd finally give in to a white button down that made him feel like he was getting dressed for school.

At a quarter till eight, they both left the room; Sebastian to pick up his mystery date for the evening, and Duke to Cesario's. The longest and shortest walk of his life.

He approached the restaurant to find Olivia waiting outside, an anxious look on her face. The tense set fell, though, when she saw him approach. In the dark, Duke couldn't tell what kind of emotion replaced it. She looked pretty, he admitted to himself. He couldn't quite find the words to say so; 'pretty' seemed a little lame and not the type of thing Olivia was used to hearing. She didn't have the take-his-breath-away appeal that, say, _someone else_ might have had, but she was…pretty.

He nodded a greeting. "Hey."

She glanced over his shoulder, and nodded back. "Hey."

Fifteen minutes later, Duke was forced to admit that may be the conversational highlight of the night. The hostess had almost immediately brought them to a booth in clear view of Toby and Andrew's stakeout, and Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. They had glanced at menus without speaking, giving their orders to a waiter with clinical detachment.

And then…nothing. The rules of dating dictated that they sit side-by-side, but Duke now felt awkward turning to look at her and having nothing to say. Olivia continually looked away from him, staring at the entrance as though something might happen there. Whatever that may be, Duke felt, was undoubtedly more interesting than their table.

'_Say something.'_ He struggled to remember anything Sebastian had told him. _'Ask questions. If the chemistry's right, it'll just start to…flow.'_ But he already knew she wouldn't want to talk about her family or soccer, and he would rather die than hear about the latest debutante thing. The carnival hadn't ended well, and they only had one class together at school. Just what the hell was he supposed to ask about?

The silence was dragging on for eternity. Even Toby and Andrew looked bored, and that meant they were probably going to do something unpleasant. Whatever it was, however pathetic, Duke had to act. "So…do you like cheese?" _'Sebastian, I'm going to kill you. I know where you sleep, and I swear to God…' _

Olivia's disgusted look said it all, and Duke instinctively compared her reaction to Viola's. Maybe it would be best just to call this whole thing off. Maybe…

"Hey, you two! What's going on?" Twenty minutes late, and yet right in the nick of time, Sebastian arrived.

"You're here!" With _Eunice_ of all people, he couldn't help but notice. _'What the hell is going on?'_ Still, Duke wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hell, at this point, even the strange girl was looking like good company.

"Mind if we join?" The question was casual, and the response was anything but. Duke had been counting on it, and Olivia certainly didn't seem to mind the addition. At least she was willing to stay, he noted, as they both hurried to recall the waiter. That counted for something, right?

As subtly as he knew how, Duke tried to communicate how horrible things were going. _'Help me. For the love of God, help me…' _But Sebastian merely stared blankly. He must still be upset over the whole Viola-Olivia thing. His help would be limited at best, but at least he was here.

Or maybe not. Duke wasn't exactly sure what changed, but after a moment of Sebastian's silence Olivia seemed full of new life.

"So, I was just telling Duke how great it is to meet a real man at this school." Was that a reference to her brother or ex or something? Duke wasn't sure.

"Um…You were?" He was sure, however, that following that train of conversation would lead nowhere good. Why she had suddenly started pretending like they'd had some kind of amazing conversation prior to this became of little concern as he felt her hands wrap around his arm. That was nice. Very nice.

"Well, I was just about to. Isn't it great to have a real man around, Eunice?" She leaned into him, not drawing her eyes away from the pair across the table. Duke had a sudden moment of clarity: Olivia was crazy. Pretty, and smart and great and all, but totally bat-shit crazy.

He decided he could live with that if she just kept her arm around his.

Eunice agreed in her own scary way, and even Sebastian couldn't hide his displeasure. Duke felt bad for the guy, despite his lack of help. It said a lot that he was willing to come out tonight (with _Eunice!_) just to be here for him. Especially when he clearly wasn't having a good time doing so.

"A real man is difficult to find." _'I'm not going to bring up her ex, I'm not going to bring him up.'_ Duke though that he was twice the guy that ass had been, but it would make him look like a total moron to say so. Olivia was a lot harder to please than…_some other girl_. Still, it made him absurdly happy that she had noticed that, finally.

Or maybe the absurd happiness was coming from her hands on his shirt, lips against his ear. This was unexpected. Was he dreaming?

Eunice and Sebastian were saying something, but the sound and words didn't register. Olivia pulled him across the seat, and pressed her lips against his. She was surprisingly cold as he did so, and Duke had to admit that it wasn't really up to par with his myriad daydreams of the event. Still, they _were_ in a booth in the middle of a restaurant, and that probably didn't make things any easier.

Sebastian got up to leave, and Duke was grateful. He wasn't really sure what the guy had done, but Olivia was certainly easier to deal with now and things seemed to be moving along nicely. She tilted her head back as he left (_'probably to say goodbye'_) and Duke followed her neck.

And then, in an instant, she was gone. _'How the _hell_ had that happened?' _ What could he have done in so short a time to put her off so quickly? Girl was _definitely _off her rocker.

Eunice sat across from him, equally abandoned, but didn't seem to think the situation was odd in the least. In the interest of their combined lab grade, Duke felt like he should at least try to _be nice_. And in the interest of scientific inquiry, he thought she might make an interesting comparison to Viola and Olivia. "So…do you like cheese?"

Eunice beamed. "More than almost any other animal byproduct." One girl thinks he's a total loser, two think it's at least worth a response. Eunice was practically shaking, and Duke couldn't help but feel like she was about to attack something with her knife. Yeah, Toby could have her.

In fact, that wasn't a bad idea. His peripheral vision caught Toby, Andrew, and Cohen (ankle propped up on a chair) merrily celebrating his dramatic failure. Well, that couldn't stand. "Check, please." He summoned the waiter.

"Eunice, I have to go. But my friend Toby really wants to hear about your cupcake recipe, so maybe you could explain it to him?" She nodded and scampered over to their table, oblivious to Andrew's look of horror. Duke threw a twenty down to cover drinks and grinned at him as he walked out.

That _almost_ made the whole evening worthwhile.

* * *

End Part 6

Thank you all so much for sticking with me thus far and especially for sitting through the longest chapter yet! I hope this part didn't disappoint. I think the first half is some of my favorite stuff thus far, but I struggled with some of the Olivia-dating scenes, since she's not my favorite character. It's hard for me to find a way to make her attractive and interesting. Maybe that's why I stick to Duke's POV )

Anyway, please review with your thoughts! The next chapter is already in-progress and will have 'Sebastian's' betrayal and possibly a trip over to Cornwall) We're narrowing in on the highly-climatic game, too!

More notes from the real world) Feel free to read, skim, or totally ignore at your discretion)

Fairfield Country Day School, Sacred Heart, and Ethel Walker: There are all actual private schools within a reasonable distance from Stratford, Connecticut. Fairfield is an all-boys Primary/Middle school (kindergarten though ninth grade), Convent of the Sacred Heart is a K-12 girls catholic school, and The Ethel Walker School is a girls 6th-12th grade day and boarding school. Duke is recalling the schools that would have had girls that were approximately in his grade before he went to Illyria. FCDS also has a 'ninth grade program' that encourages students to stay there for what is typically the first year of high school elsewhere. In this case, Duke left to start Illyria in ninth grade, whereas some of his classmates/teammates did not. For those who missed it chapter 2, Allgood is only a junior, so he was a year behind Duke anyway, regardless of whether or not he went to Illyria starting in ninth or tenth grade (and its not really important either way;-).

Two Gentlemen: For those who haven't read Two Gentlemen of Verona (which I've referenced before), this is sort of a brief summary of Scene IV, Act IV. No, I'm not making this up- there really is another play with a girl (Julia) who dresses up as a guy named Sebastian (appropriate but ironic here, I feel, because in Twelfth Night Viola actually dresses up as a guy named Cesario, not Sebastian). Also appropriate because in Two Gentlemen, the guy Julia's in love with briefly recruits her (while dressed as a man) to help him win over another girl. That's pretty much where to similarity ends, since the guy (Proteus) is sort of an asshole for the entire play and screws people over left and right. It's still a fun play though, if you don't mind a few things that make no sense. Two Gentlemen also has a few of the same emotional conflicts as Twelfth Night, only the main characters are guys instead of a girl (How appropriate for this story! How many of you just thought I was just wasting time?;-).

CAIS: CAIS is the Connecticut Association of Independent Schools. They are a body that can bestow regional accreditation on private schools in Connecticut, as well composing several commissions on things like diversity, school advancement, and the like. Though they really don't set this kind of policy, I can't help but love the idea that Duke and Malcolm somehow did something so heinous that every high school in the state wanted a guarantee to keep them apart. To clarify, this isn't to be confused with the CIAC (Connecticut Interscholastic Athletic Conference) from chapter four.


	7. It's Crazy

Play On

I'm happy to present the much-delayed 7th chapter;-) It's a little more dramatic and faster-paced than some of the previous parts, but things have to happen kind of rapidly in order for everything to fall out right. No fun scavenger hunt in this one, I'm afraid; it's all straight up drama. Unless, of course, you feel the need track down all the lines quoted from previous parts of this story;-)

Shameless plug! Part of this chapter sort of plays into a few of the scenes from my other STM story, 'What Is Pourqouis'. I'd recommend reading part 3 of that story (each chapter is a separate story, for those who have missed it) to get an idea of how I perceive the state of the Cornwall girls soccer team. Ideally this should still stand on its own without that back-story, but it does provide a little optional insight.

I still don't own She's the Man, Twelfth Night, Burger King, or anything else in this story. Sigh.

Play On

Chapter 7

_Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence. In other words, it is war minus the shooting. - _George Orwell

If one were to describe Friday morning's practice as brutal, then the noon workout was nothing short of absolutely vicious. Though Duke tried to pull Sebastian aside afterwards to see how he was holding up, the boy disappeared almost immediately without saying a word to him. Thankfully, Olivia was also absent from campus that afternoon, so he didn't have to make an idiot of himself for any post-mortem date conversation. If whatever it was that had happened last night could even be considered a date.

Even worse, he'd had ridiculously vivid dreams about none other than _Viola Hastings_ all night, and did not feel particularly well rested upon waking up this morning. He'd woken up in the middle of the night and could have sworn that he'd just felt Viola's hand drifting up and down his arm. That had been…nice. Too nice, really, considering that he had more important things than his roommate's sister to think about.

But unable to find his wayward teammate, Duke lingered in the locker room after practice, trying to get his thoughts focused. The physically demanding practice had helped for a short time, but then only served to remind him of the time and energy he'd spent elsewhere than his soccer team this week. It they crashed and burned tomorrow, it would really be his fault for not keeping everyone focused, and he should _know_ better than that by now. Dinklage noticed him sitting on the bench as he passed through to his office and stopped in the middle of the floor.

"You have a problem Orsino? Or did you just feel like you're too good to go to class this afternoon?"

Duke jerked up at the comment, and immediately began fiddling with equipment in his locker to look busy. "No, sir. Just…slow moving today, I guess." Dinklage cocked his head to the side, and Duke read his thought so clearly he might have well as said it aloud: _Bullshit._ Duke could only turn to face his locker and look down in response. His hand wrapped around his jersey, crushing his name in a fist. He _hated_ feeling so weak.

Maybe Dinklage noticed that, or maybe he just wanted to say something. Either way, the man clapped a hand on Duke's shoulder and turned him around. "It's been a few years since I started two new players in the first game. There's always uncertainty, but those guys turned out pretty damn good."

Duke chuckled humorlessly but didn't look up from his death-grip on the shirt. "We lost that game. The one after that, too." He reminded his coach. It had been a long time before the sting left that memory, and he had only been a freshman at the time. It was a new kind of pain to think about it now. How his inexperience might have ruined everything for those seniors, hoping as he did now, that they could make history that year.

"And there's even more pressure this year now that we've got Cornwall for the opener. But I have a lot more faith in the leadership this year. We wouldn't have had two new guys ready to start against Cornwall otherwise." And with that, Dinklage continued on to his office and Duke breathed easier than he had in some time.

His relief was short lived, however, when Andrew ran him down in the hallway just before fifth period.

"Have you seen Olivia today?" The question surprised Duke, considering Andrew had personally witnessed the anti-climactic ending of the maybe-date. "Her friend- you know, Maria- is in my math class and you won't _believe_ what she said happened at-"

_Da-da-da-daaa. _Andrew immediately stopped talking when the ominous notes sounded, and cut his eyes to Duke's backpack. "You'll probably want to answer that."

Duke's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why the hell would I want to talk to my mom?" There was no good there. The refrain sounded out again while Duke waited for an answer.

"Olivia, some other chickadee from Cornwall, and _Viola Hastings_ got into a catfight at some debutant thing earlier today." Andrew managed an ironic smile, no doubt amused at Duke's shocked face. "Rumor is it had something to do with Sebastian having a new girlfriend. Thought you'd want to know."

Duke couldn't even form thought enough for a reply as Andrew tripped off down the hall with a mad cackle. The phone in his hand continued to ring and he stared at it blankly for a moment, as though he'd never seen one before. What exactly was he supposed to do with this knowledge? And, for the love of everything holy, what would his mother have to say about it?

Duke took a deep breath. "…Hello?"

"_What _did you_ do _to my girls? How_ could _you_-_" He winced and pulled the phone a foot away from his ear; his mother's voice could still be heard shrieking out of the tiny speaker. Duke took a breath and tried to interject.

"I didn't do anything! I don't even know what happened." _'Tell me what happened. Tell me Olivia's not dating Sebastian.'_

"Don't interrupt. I have had enough of this, Duke, _enough_! First that horrible display at the carnival, now you're getting them into a fight at my luncheon! I know how you get this time of year; do you really need involve these poor girls just for some strike at your rival?" His rival? Did she mean that Sebastian was now a rival for Olivia? How much did she know about her debs? _'What has Sebastian done? How could he _do_ this to me?'_

"What are you _thinking? _Because I have no idea. Tell me. Tell me how these poor girls will somehow help you to win your match."

"I don't know what you're talking about. This has _nothing_ to do with the Cornwall game." It hadn't even occurred to him. The concept made him pause, slightly dizzy with possible relief. Did it relate? He was sure that no one on his team would be stupid enough to start this kind of battle. Duke supposed that it was possible someone at Cornwall might give Viola a hard time over her brother playing for Illyria, and she had certainly proven that she didn't run from a fight. But it's not like it had been _set up_ or anything.

Not by them, at the very least. _'Does Sebastian have a hand in this or not? Where was he this afternoon?'_ But again, even as the thought crossed his mind, Duke felt guilty. A bunch of girls fighting didn't make a difference to either team. If Sebastian _had_ been involved-which he didn't actually know for sure- then _surely_ it was just insofar as to help his sister- who had so far only been rumored to be there. That is, _if _Viola had been fighting with a Cornwall girl, and not Olivia. _'Otherwise…'_ Duke didn't even want to think about it.

He felt uneasy and unfocused. The game was _tomorrow_, and this was exactly the sort of thing he couldn't afford right now.

"Are you even listening to me?" His mother's shriek pulled him back to awareness. He could ask for details about what happened, but knowing his mother, it would only cement his guilt and encourage her to embellish the story. Better to find Sebastian. Maybe Olivia. Or possibly Viola. _'No, no, no! There will no more girls until _after_ the game. Last night proved as much.' _He needed facts, not hearsay or a good story.

Could he trust even Sebastian's version of events? Or Viola's? Duke chided himself once again. It didn't really matter. So what if they had been involved in a fight. Those girls could do whatever they liked, and even if something happened at Sebastian's behest, Viola didn't seem the type to be pushed into something she didn't want to do. He'd let them squabble however they wanted to- as long as it didn't keep Sebastian from doing his best tomorrow. And he had no reason not to trust Sebastian…

For a moment, the dark side of his brain betrayed him again. _'What if Viola and her Cornwall friend were fighting with _Olivia_?'_ After all, wasn't he pretty sure that Viola played on the soccer team there? Maybe she was trying to prove her mettle by laying into an Illyrian. Maybe Sebastian had known about it, and that was why he was making himself scarce. Maybe Viola didn't like her brother dating a girl from Illyria.

'_That bullshit. She wouldn't do that.' _Where was he getting this stuff? It had to be because Sebastian hadn't spoken to him at all today, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. Not to mention the way he'd left last night; at the time Duke had been sure it was because he wanted to give him and Olivia some privacy, but leaving Eunice behind sort of negated that. In hindsight, it reeked of hidden agenda.

Wasn't there anyone who could tell him what was really going on?

No, Duke decided, there was not. But maybe he could get the next best thing.

* * *

In a decidedly unintelligent move the day before a game, Duke skipped his last three classes. He'd be all kinds of dead if- rather, when- Dinklage caught wind of it (especially if that happened before tomorrow morning), but there was no way that he could make it till the end of the day in his present state of mind. He was doing it for the good of his fellow students, really, and it would be the least of the offenses that he was currently considering.

Duke was grateful for the quiet seclusion of his dorm. Had it only been two weeks ago that he'd wished for noisy hallways and friends around while moving in? It wasn't like he didn't like having Sebastian around, but it was getting harder and harder to find some time for himself between all the game practice and training. Not to mention, the thought of facing Sebastian right now made him feel uneasy. Despite a complete lack of any information, he couldn't shake the feeling that Sebastian had a hand in this. The 'new girlfriend' business was…unpleasant to say the least. Premature judgment, to be sure, but his intuition was telling him that something was amiss.

But for this afternoon, at least, he was best off on his own. If anyone else were around, they might try to talk him out of what he was busy trying to talk himself _in_ to. Toby and Andrew would probably go with him if he asked, but if this went south one suspension was better than three. A saner person would put it off until well after tomorrow's game, but Duke couldn't. He was a man obsessed. Flashes of sights and sounds spun in his head; a giggle, a patient smile. He couldn't stand the thought that Viola might be so conniving that she would do something so...Well, he didn't even have words for it. If, in fact, she had done anything wrong.

But if something was up with Sebastian, Viola and/or her Cornwall friend, there was one place he could go to find decent information. He would have to go into the belly of the beast itself; it was time for a little fact finding trip into Cornwall territory.

Duke took a deep breath and heaved himself upward from his bed. If he left now, chances were good that he could be back before his scheduled meeting with Dinklage this evening. He stood a better chance of keeping Dinklage out of the faculty gossip loop if no one had to go looking for him.

His swiped the keys to his bike from desk, and made straight for the door before his nerve failed him. He swung open the door with dedicated force, and managed to keep his composure when it revealed a surprised Andrew.

"What the hell, man? What you doing here?" Duke was a little demanding, but Andrew took it with minimal offense.

"_Me_ what the hell? What the hell are _you_ doing? I saw you cut out earlier. Skipping class the day before the game? Are you trying to sabotage us or something?" The unease in Duke's stomach flared up again, but instead of a wavering blow, his entire body tightened.

"_What_ did you just say?" Jaw clenched, Duke pinned Andrew with a fierce glare. That word hit a nerve. Or rather, it hit the nail on the head. Whatever the metaphor, Duke was certain it had put a name to his fears. Sebastian disappearing, Viola getting into a fight with Olivia. Olivia leaving dinner right after Sebastian.

Andrew took a step back, hands raised defensively. "C'mon, man. It was just a joke. I know you wouldn't really-"

"Sabotage." Duke whispered it to himself, finding it more and more accurate by the second. He closed his eyes, this time trying to match Viola's sweet smile with the dark intent. Would she really try to do something to try and throw the game? Sebastian wouldn't involve himself with that…"We need to go. _Now."_

"Huh? Man, if we don't show up for the rest of the day, someone's going to notice. What's your deal?"

"I'm going to go out. I think someone's trying to set us up."

Andrew's entire face darkened. "Seriously? Who?" He cracked his knuckles. "We'll put a stop to that."

"I'm not sure. Something strange is going down. I want to find out what. Are you in?" Duke was torn between hoping for a yes and a no. Andrew was a loyal friend and great at getting people to say more than they otherwise might. But if it ended in a fight (and if they ran into Drayton or anyone else from the Cornwall team, chances were good that it might), having both of them benched tomorrow would be a death knell to the team. Still, four eyes were better than two.

"Like I'd miss it." Andrew eyed Duke's keys in hand. "I'll follow in my car. Barnum?"

"Barnum."

* * *

Barnum Avenue ran almost all the way through Stratford, but anyone who'd gone to high school in the area knew that the block between Broadbridge Avenue and Randolph Street was the general hangout district for Cornwall students. Bordered by a Burger King on one end and Salerno's Pizza on the other, it was also the premier place to pick up someone who was willing to chat about whatever Cornwall might be plotting. This wasn't the first time they'd trekked to the north side of the city to eavesdrop on their rival, but Duke always hoped each trip would be the last. Every time they'd portrayed themselves as the enemy here, he shuddered to think of how many hidden Cornwall students blended in with the crowd at Cesario's.

Still, he parked his bike at Burger King with a fair amount familiarity, watching Andrew's SUV pull further on down to park by the pizzeria. Cornwall's student body was out in force enjoying their last days of vacation, but he expected the soccer team to be at practice for at least another hour yet. That _should _mean they wouldn't run into any who'd recognize him, but there were no guarantees.

He walked into the restaurant alone, giving each booth and table a quick once over. No sign of Drayton or his ilk. People his age bustled in and out almost constantly, and half a dozen guys had given up finding a table and stood around the trash cans while wolfing down their food. A particularly chatty group of girls, two of whom were wearing Cornwall Athletics t-shirts, had squished themselves into a booth near the back. A table was conveniently empty behind them. The brunette sitting with the group looked a little familiar and Duke though that maybe he'd met her somewhere before; that always made it easier to flirt a little and get them gossiping. He took a Coke and a cheeseburger to the table, and waited patiently for Andrew to catch up. Behind him, the girls were already on a roll.

"I don't know _what_ her problem is. Not a word since last weekend at the carnival, except to say that she was busy."

"Busy? Does she think we're sitting around doing nothing?" _'Nothing like girls being catty. These four should be a wealth of information.' _"Soccer teams don't fix themselves, you know."

"You're preaching to the choir, babe. But you have to admit, her whole plan is a little…sketchy." Duke nearly choked on his soda. There were a lot of ways one could interpret that, but he couldn't help but assume it referred to fixing tomorrow's game. What the hell did they do to people at that school that they were so nonchalant about it? And what could these girls do about it anyway? _'Unless Sebastian and Viola had something to do with it…' _

The girls fell quiet after the comment, and Duke was terrified for a moment that he'd been discovered. A soft voice broke the silence, and he strained to hear over the background noise.

"You don't think…"

"What?"

"Do you think Viola'd be this bad if Sebastian hadn't left? I mean, he was always able to kind of reign her in, at least a little. But now with the whole Illyria thing…did we let everything go too far?"

Duke felt his heartbeat triple. _'So Viola is involved.' _It burned more than he'd thought, but the clarity was unmistakable and he cursed himself for being so easily led astray by a pair of pretty eyes. It had been _so _well staged. All the phone calls, the understanding looks, the smiles. And all the time he'd spent _not practicing_ and thinking about her, thinking about dating her, or dating someone else to not think about her. _'Oh, God. That kiss at the carnival.'_ He could have sworn he forgot how to breath, and was relieved a moment later when his lungs expanded on their own. Heart beating, lungs breathing; these things continued. The world continued, even though Duke wasn't sure how. It like all the worst injuries he'd ever received at once. But like most, he needed to play through it. _'Just keep focused. Just keep sitting here. Each second gets easier. You're not hurt. Hurt is only in the mind. Not the body, not the heart.' _

Later on, he'd scream and break down, curse her very name. Right now, the captain in him struggled to compartmentalize.So Viola Hastings was royal bitch and he'd wasted valuable game prep time on her. There was still time to get the better of Cornwall; they hadn't won or lost a thing yet.

But he already felt lost.

Where the hell was Andrew? He needed someone else to be here for this! He mentally pleaded for the girls to stop talking long enough for Andrew to walk in, but to no avail.

"Oh please; it's not like Sebastian ever game a damn about anything to do with sports before. He's the only guy in school history to fail P.E. _three_ times. Besides, we're trying to save our team! Between her and Yvonne, they weren't just going to let us be humiliated again. Don't you want those boys to go down?" _'Are they talking about the same Sebastian?'_ Sebastian _had_ implied that he played before, but Duke was sure he'd never heard of the guy until this year. He considered himself pretty well educated on Cornwall's team. Still, these girls sounded like he had been a classmate with some kind of involvement here; one who'd definitely not been an athlete, from the sound of it. What the hell was going on?

Andrew got his food from the counter just then, glancing around the room until he spotted Duke frantically waving under the table. If the girls thought a table of two boys sitting silently was awkward, nobody indicated as much and they just kept talking.

"Not as much as I want the new Headmaster to admit we need a girls' team. I still can't believe that Pistonek wouldn't even let us try out. Jerk. Everyone on that team is a jerk." A murmur of agreement went around the table and silence fell again.

"So, are you taking fourth period lit this year? I'm thinking about dropping it." The conversation fell into a comparison of schedules and first day shoes, which Duke had no problem tuning out. Normally he'd take this chance to start chatting them up, but found himself distinctly not in the mood.

Andrew glanced at him cautiously. "You all right, man? You look kind of…scary."

"She totally played me. And I totally let her." The words came without emotion, and Duke wasn't entirely sure it was even himself that had spoken.

Andrew replied through a mouth full of French fries.

"Whufh?"

"Sebastian's sister. _Viola. _She's been trying to fix the game."

Andrew dropped the fries. "Are you kidding me?" Duke's resulting glare indicated that he was _not_, in fact, kidding. "Do you think Sebastian knows?" Duke shook his head, then dropped it into his palm on the table.

"I don't know. I just don't know."

* * *

"So, run this by me again." A few moments later, Andrew, having finished his Whopper and fries, gave Duke's arm a shove to encourage his friend to recount the conversation he'd missed.

"Those girls that were here must play for the Cornwall girls' team- or at least did- and they want to blow Saturday's game for us! How many times do I have to say it?"

Andrew sighed, very much put upon. "C'mon, I know there was more to it than that. What exactly were they saying?"

"That is was hard to fix soccer, and that Viola was involved in something sketchy at Illyria. _And_ that they want our team to go down, because they don't want Cornwall humiliated again. You heard everything after that." That was the part that didn't make sense to Duke. He didn't really keep up with the happenings of the girls' league- Illyria hadn't fielded a girls' side in some time- but it surprised him to hear that apparently the new Head had cut the team, as he knew them to be pretty good in their league. It didn't surprise him that Cornwall's coach gave them the brush off. Duke only met the man two or three times a year, but he'd never really been impressed. Too little patience in the game, even less respect for his players (or anyone else's).

"I just don't get it." Andrew verbalized his train of thought. "So if those girls aren't playing, now they're throwing everything in to help the coach and team that stonewalled them?"

Duke shifted in his seat. He could imagine doing a lot to help his team or his Coach, above or below the board, but that came with the knowledge that they'd do a lot for him too. What would he be willing to risk without that? _'Aren't you already crossing the line? Haven't you used Sebastian for you own gain, just to get on the Coach's good side? To prove your place and ability? Didn't you set him up with a starting spot, groom him to have the skills that would get you both noticed?' _It was dangerous thinking, but it was true and he couldn't get away from it. "Maybe there's something in it for them."

Andrew nodded. "Ohhh. Like maybe if Cornwall wins suddenly there's a girls team again?" He clarified.

"Stranger things have happened. Maybe it's not even that much." Duke thought aloud, "You heard them; they just wanted to try out for the boy's team. Maybe the coach made it known that a Cornwall victory opens up the roster a little and let them handle the rest."

"That's some seriously bad juju. Any idea what they'd be up to?"

"No. We can't prove anything. We don't even know for sure. But now we're on the lookout."

Andrew's cell phone buzzed on the table, and he slowly reached for it, as though it might be some sort of sign. "Hello? Hey Toby…what time is it?" Andrew glanced at his watch with a surprised expression, then continued. "Oh no, no….I've got Duke. Of course we're not cutting class. We're…doing some research. The, uh…library. Oh, not _that_ library. Downtown. Yes, _Mom_." He paused for a moment, and then looked at Duke. "You want Cesario's?"

Duke glanced down at his cold burger. It was a poor substitute for a cheesy, gooey, pizza. "Hell yes. We need to decide how to handle this."

Andrew turned back to the phone. "Meet you there in twenty. Bring Cohen and Bentley, too." He glanced at Duke, an eyebrow raised in silent question. _'Should they look for Sebastian?' _Duke shook his head a fraction of an inch. It may be unfair, but there wasn't much chance that Sebastian could handle this issue objectively if Viola was involved. And that was the best case scenario. "Toby? _Just_ them."

* * *

The late afternoon air was still warm when they pulled into the parking lot of Cesario's, but a slight breeze hinted at the cool season to come and had encouraged many of the patrons to take their meals outside. Inside, however, was still fairly quiet and empty. So much the better, in Duke's opinion. He knew the walls had ears.

Duke arrived first, and wasted no time in getting their usual table and order.

"One extra large, extra cheese pizza." Their waitress was a girl Duke vaguely knew from the JV cheerleading squad at school, but saw more often working here in the afternoon. She gave him a smile. "Looks like you mean serious business over here. Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"We will be." Duke answered gravely, his voice low and even.

The waitress nodded. "Glad to hear it."

Andrew had slipped into the table during the exchange, with Toby and Cohen entering soon after. "Bentley had to make up a math test before tomorrow." Toby excused, "We didn't really want to try and get him out of it."

Duke nodded. "That's fine. We'll catch him up later. How's the foot?"

"Better." Cohen answered with a grimace. "Still sore. I did a little work on the treadmill this afternoon. There's an outside shot that I might get in a couple of minutes tomorrow. "

Duke exhaled slowly. If Cohen wasn't ready to play, and they lost the game because of it, it would be entirely his own fault for siccing Sebastian on them. He cast a severe look over the rest of the group, and began with a sigh. "We have a serious problem. Cornwall has crossed a line."

"Wait. Before you go any further, let me just ask: The game's _tomorrow_ Duke. Are you sure whatever you're about to say is something we want to get involved in _tonight_? I don't know about you, but I've already been close enough to suspension once this year." It was a fair question, and one Duke had posed to himself on the way here. Normally, he'd be the first to agree with Toby, but there was no way he was going to let his team set foot on the field unprepared.

"Forget that." Cohen piped up. "I'm not really playing anyway. You need something done tonight, I'm your man." He hit the table for effect. Duke shook his head, but couldn't keep the twist of a smile down. His teammates were good guys, and good friends. And he couldn't let them down now just because he was a weak captain, or a lovesick idiot.

"It's nothing exactly like that. Andrew and I were out by Cornwall this afternoon," Toby interrupted with a loud groan, but Duke confidently ignored him. "And we think that there's some effort from their side to fix tomorrow's game."

Andrew and Duke outlined the conversation, and then Duke leaned heavily on the table. "There's still no reason to believe that anything they've done so far will have an effect. We're still more than good enough to beat Cornwall. The problem is that we need to determine Sebastian's involvement, and fast." He deliberately left out any mention of Viola's fight with Olivia, and hoped Andrew would get the hint to do the same. His personal problems had to be shelved until after the game.

But Toby was talking again, and Duke was pulled back into the here and now. "You think that's true? Sebastian's sister is trying to get herself in good with the Cornwall team by messing with your head?"

"It's too bad," Andrew added. "'Cause Viola was hot."

Duke glared, but felt compelled to elaborate. "Even if it is true, we don't have any reason to believe that Sebastian's done anything wrong. It's not like the guy can't talk to whoever he wants."

A general unease settled over the table, but there really wasn't anything more anyone could say. They didn't know anything for sure. All they could do was to leave everything on the field and ignore any girls that may come up between now and tomorrow morning.

As they finished their food, Toby gave Duke a searching look. "Are you sure you're doing okay with this?"

Although he knew Toby probably didn't mean anything by it, he felt offended. "I'm _fine._ I just want to go out tomorrow and kick some Cornwall ass."

"Okay. But it's cool if-"

"I'm _fine_. Look, I don't know exactly what her deal was, but it doesn't matter. We're going to win, and I'll be fine."

"If you say so. Aren't you supposed to meet Dinklage soon anyway? We should get going." It was Toby's peace offering, and Duke seized it. The last thing they needed was more tension.

"You guys can go, if you want. I'll get the check." What he really wanted fifteen minutes sit by himself and not feel like he had to keep it together for his team. The three others seemed to get the hint (or possibly just didn't want to get stuck buying) and cleared out. The same waitress returned for their plates and gave him another smile.

"Pre-game war council, huh?"

"Something like that." Duke managed. Why wouldn't girls just stop talking to him? Life would be so much easier.

"I have to admit," The oblivious girl continued. "I was a little worried when I heard you were spending so much time on Viola Hastings, what with the carnival and all. But I should have known that you had a plan to take care of that all along."

Duke's neck stiffened. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "I worked part-time at Cristofer's over the summer. She was in there with a couple of Cornwall soccer players a few weeks ago, squealing about something to do with her and her brother. One of the stylists is a friend of hers, and it sounded like she knew she was going to be playing with the boys. 'I'll make the boys team,' she said. But I never heard anything else about it, so I guess whatever she was doing never worked out."

"Did she say how she knew that?"

The girl shook her head. "Not really. She was in and out a lot; I never paid her much attention." She turned to go, but stopped suddenly a few feet away and came back. "You know, I do remember one of her friends said nobody at Illyria has ever met Sebastian, so no one would ever know the difference. He used to play for Cornwall, right? Maybe he was going to put in a good word for her. You should ask him." She smiled and left for good this time, leaving a very confused patron behind her.

Duke's head was spinning. Thoughts and memories swam before him; ideas and confusion warred. Sebastian's history had come up before, but lately it seemed like mysteries about him were popping up with suspicious warnings everywhere. '_Nobody at Illyria had ever met Sebastian, so no one would know the difference. Like the difference between a guy who fails PE and one who starts for a varsity team?_' Little moments and phrases suddenly became a river.

"_Forget talent, you can earn a spot on the team at Cornwall by doing anything: bribe the coach or straight up cheat."_

"_Maybe the coach made it known that a Cornwall victory opens up the roster…"_

_"You don't get along with your sister?"_  
"_It's not like that. It's just...hard to be in the same place with her right now? There's a lot of stuff going on..."_

"_I'll tell you what. You do this, I'll work with you on your soccer. I'll make you good enough to make first string."_  
"_By the Cornwall game?"_  
"_Absolutely."_  
"_Ok, yeah. You got a deal."_

One explanation made sense to him amid all the guesswork and confusion. One option, that made all the hints and secrets come together. The fact that a guy who couldn't hack it playing sports at Cornwall was suddenly so popular with the girls there. His unwillingness to talk about his sister, or to let her talk to Duke. The twitchiness and uncertainty. His desperation to play in _the Cornwall game_. It was exactly the type of thing that Drayton and his obnoxious coach would put someone up to, too: help knock off Illyria, and they'd give you a spot on the team. Or maybe even hand one to your sister. And then you're the hero to the blue-and-white faithful.

Would Sebastian really do such a thing? Duke generally thought of him as being soft to the point of sappy. He would never have said that Sebastian was malicious enough to take a dive in a game. But they really didn't have anyone who could replace him, so he could do a lot of damage without getting benched. He was close to his sister; Duke knew. There probably weren't a lot of things he _wouldn't_ do. _'Weren't you just thinking the same thing? That you'd get yourself in trouble, cross some lines, if it were in the best interest of your team?' _ It was a struggle. He could ignore, at least for now, the fact that something was going on with Sebastian and Olivia. He'd seen hints of as much before. The fact that Viola was looking more and more two-faced by the minute still stung, but in the face of a major game, he could deal. But if there really were a chance that Sebastian was trying to make good with the Cornwall team, if he and his teammates were going to pay a price for it, then he couldn't stand by and do nothing.

This was his team, and he'd be damned if anyone got the best of them on his watch.

* * *

His meeting with Dinklage was a lost cause by the time Duke managed to clear his head enough to drive back to campus. It would have left a hideous tension in his stomach to know that all his work to get on the Coach's good side was down the drain if his entire body hadn't felt completely numb. Instead, he lingered through backstreets and circled the parking garage twice before finally feeling up to going to his room. If Sebastian were there, he'd find something to say, but his foggy mind and unfeeling body couldn't drum up enough energy to imagine what or how. He could ask about the thing with Viola and Olivia. Or the thing with Viola and him. Or with him and Cornwall.

Or he could just let the guy who'd been his friend and teammate, who couldn't really be _proven_ to have done anything wrong, enjoy the night in peace.

He pulled off his helmet, letting his gaze settle on the stretch of campus in front of him. The night was a nice one, and several students were taking advantage of the Friday weather. He spotted one in particular, easy to identify even though she was clear across the lawn. _Olivia._

Just the sight of her relaxed him a little. She looked tired, he thought, but not like she'd been assaulted earlier in the day. Whatever Viola and her friend had dished out, Olivia had evidently been able to hold her own. One less thing for him to worry about. _'Girls.'_ She was smiling. Did she see him? He smiled back just in case.

A taxi pulled up to the side of the admin building, and Duke switched his attention. Drop-offs for move-in day and return from vacation were fairly common, but a late night visit two weeks into the school year was…suspicious, to say the least. It would have to be someone who didn't know anyone else to give them a ride, or someone who didn't want their car to be seen.

Duke squinted and tried to identify the dark head that climbed out of the car. He was some distance off. Still, if he didn't know better, Duke would have sworn it was Sebastian. Olivia, contrasting brightly in a pink shirt against the dark, started to sprint towards him and gave a shout. Then she grabbed his collar and both were silent for the longest three seconds in history.

There were no words for this moment. The cloying numbness that had insulted him for the past several hours suddenly broke, every nerve in his body seemingly on fire from the sudden onslaught of sensation. A crack echoed through the empty garage, and for a moment Duke wondered if that would be the sound one of Sebastian's bones might make if he broke it. He dropped the helmet as vibration of the impact went up his arm, defeated.

A bitter, bitter, moment.

'_One less thing to worry about indeed.'_ So there it was. Sebastian _had_ been going after Olivia. The blow stung less than it might have if he hadn't already considered that Olivia and himself weren't all that great together. It didn't hurt in a heartwrenching, Viola-is-was-might-have-been-using-you kind of way.

Instead, there was anger; a lot of anger. Sebastian dating Olivia wasn't the point. They got along better than she and Duke did, obviously. Duke had realized that, at least a little. It was the act of betrayal; the willingness to say he'd get the two of them together when he clearly didn't mean it. Olivia hadn't been at all surprised to see him there; determined, more than anything else. How long had this been going on? Was this why Olivia had run out after him at dinner? His mind conjured a picture of the two in the parking lot of Cesario's, laughing their asses off at him before disappearing into a dark corner to make out.

It had been well played. _Very _well played.

* * *

Life had to go on. Duke was pretty his would, assuming Dinklage didn't hunt him down and kill him.

The room was empty when Duke slowly opened the door, and he couldn't even drum up relief; it only meant that Sebastian was still God-knows-where doing God-knows-what with Olivia. The rage had abated too; exhaustion was winning out and Duke knew when he was defeated.

There was a time when his worries were simple. Leading his team, winning a state title. Then came Olivia, Sebastian, and Viola. Cornwall. Somehow, before he'd even noticed it, they'd all become tied up together, and he wasn't sure how to unknot them.

Hell, he wasn't even sure how it all related. How involved was Viola? He'd been so sure just a few hours ago that she'd been playing him all week. But now, after Sebastian…

Did she even know? It was a ridiculously optimistic hope. He wanted to call her, but what would he say? "By the way, have you done any backstabbing lately? Lied to me at all? Promised your ex and his friends you'd save the day?" He could call Sebastian too, but it wasn't any better. Sebastian was probably pulling all the strings for one or both of them, and now had everyone just where he wanted them.

Even Shakespeare couldn't dream this stuff up.

Part of him wanted to find Toby and Andrew, and just let everything out. But no matter how much he wanted another view on Sebastian, on Olivia, and everything else, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Partly because he needed their objectivity later. The team was still counting on Sebastian to play tomorrow, and despite his overwhelming suspicion, there wasn't much more than a lot of gossip game-wise. He couldn't let the personal stuff, _the Olivia and Viola stuff_, make him read further into that than needed. He wanted them to have a clear perspective tomorrow, to keep an eye on him fairly.

But mostly he just didn't feel like it would help. They would listen, he was sure, and probably offer up condolences with a level of profanity that only teenage boys could master. They would try, but they wouldn't really _get it_, really _know_ what was going on inside his head. The realization made him angry once again, because he'd been so ready to believe that Sebastian did have that kind of understanding.

The room, the hallway, the whole damn wing was just too damn quiet. He needed action, someone to yell at or play a violent video game with. The football team left hours ago for an away game, and every else with a game tomorrow was sequestered away in the dorms. The harsh reality of Friday night during the fall.

He shouted and threw a pillow from his bed into the desk with a vague hope of creating some noise. "Just what the hell am I supposed to do?!" It didn't really work; the pillow was too soft for a crash and the texts on the desk too heavy to be budged. The only thing that gave was his Lit book; the paperback book rolled across the carpet once or twice before landing face-up near the window.

Duke _really_ didn't want to deal with homework tonight, but he knew a sign when he saw one.

_I am sorry I must never trust thee more,  
But count the world a stranger for thy sake.  
The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst,  
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!_  
- Valentine, _Two Gentlemen of Verona,_ Act V  
(William Shakespeare)

Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Taptaptaptap. The pen in Duke's hand hit an increasingly faster rhythm as he tried in vain to focus on homework. His agitation only seemed to grow the longer he sat still, and his up and down emotions over the past few hours only added to the burn. It was Sebastian poor luck then, that he entered the room just as all hell was about to break loose.

"Hey brother," _'He so damn casual. Like nothing even happened. How many nights has this been going on?'_ "Dinklage is lookin' for you, man." Duke felt that was probably an understatement. Dinklage was probably two steps short of hunting him down like a dog. Their coach was a fairly predictable guy in that regard: he expected his players to do what they were supposed to do. Normally he'd appreciate Sebastian not making a big deal, but now the act just continued to piss him off. He pressed a hand to his head in an attempt to physically stop himself from hitting something. Someone. "Dude! Hello?"

"You know," Duke began slowly, "It's…crazy. How _wrong_ you can be about a person?" He wanted answers, the truth. Duke did not want to have to beat the ever-loving shit out of his roommate before tomorrow's game. Although the idea gave him a small measure of relief, he couldn't help but think of the last fight he'd been a part of. Moreover, he could shake the memory of what a terrible feeling it was to have just locked lips with someone that was practically guaranteed to piss of one's roommate. He hadn't been sorry (at the time, at least) about making out with Viola without telling Sebastian, but coming clean hadn't been easy. He'd also been pretty sure that Sebastian knew and let him have a minute to fess up first. Granted, the situation was little different, but still…

One good turn deserved another, so he'd give Sebastian fifteen seconds and a push in the right direction before punching him in the face. "It's crazy." _'Don't overreact, don't overreact.' _"You think that they're one thing," _'I thought you were my _friend_, damn you.' _"And they turn out to be the exact opposite." Duke couldn't help but wonder if he was still talking about Sebastian, or had unknowingly segued into characterizing Viola as well.

Sebastian sat down and stared at him intently. For a fraction of second, Duke was sure he was going to admit it. Then… "Okay, what are you talking about?"

Duke was floored. It was one thing to try and evade the topic, or to put what happened into more flattering terms. He knew he'd been tempted to lie to Sebastian about kissing Viola. But in the end, he'd done none of those things. "You're gonna sit there and act like you don't know what I'm talking about?" Playing dumb was even worse: a coward's way out. He shouldn't be surprised, and he really wasn't, but it still hurt.

Silence. Sebastian blinked but didn't react, and Duke couldn't even look at him. He turned back to his text, distractedly underlining notes in aggravated bold lines. The silence drew out for another second, and then at last Sebastian broke in quietly.

"Okay." _'Okay? No, this is not okay. This is just about as far from okay as things can get.' _ "Alright, okay…I _wanted_ to tell you, Duke, but you _have _to know…"

Hearing that much, Duke had to look up, albeit very slightly. He _did_ know. He knew what it was to be unable to stop thinking about a girl. He knew how much it sucked to think that your roommate would be pissed even though you couldn't really help yourself. Maybe, if Sebastian would just put his cards on the table, this could work out. Duke could care less about Olivia, if Sebastian really did have some kind of feelings for her.

"I love soccer more than anything else in the world, and I had a point to prove!" _Soccer._ So there it was. It had been about the Cornwall game all along; the perfect thing to twist the knife. _Nobody at Illyria had ever met Sebastian, so no one would know the difference. _

A memory of night like this one, of the two of them sitting much like they were now, surfaced in Duke's memory. _"When I got kicked off the soccer team- I mean, off the team and kicked out..."_ "Are you telling me that you _used_ me to help you with soccer, and then you're going to turn around and stab me in the back?"

"_I'll make you good enough to make first string."_  
"_By the Cornwall game?"_

It was an ugly realization.

"_He's not looking out for the team...he didn't even care."_

Duke had single-handedly created his team's worst nightmare. Everyone had warned him; he really should have seen the signs. The skipped initiation and meetings. The God-damned Cornwall sweatshirt that he knew was still balled up in the bottom of the closet. All the gossip and whispers. He wanted to ask crazy questions, to at least hear what exactly it was that he and his team had been sold out for. Why did he do it? How could he? What did Cornwall offer him? '_What did Viola know about it?'_

"Wait! _What_?" For a second, Duke wasn't sure if it was himself or Sebastian that had spoken. "Now I really don't even know what you're talking about."

So they were back to that already. For a second, it had begun to look like they'd at least get to have it out, even if it ended badly. "You know what? Save it." Duke felt disgusted. At least one of them should be honest tonight. "Man, I saw you with her." _'Just admit it, man. Just that much. Say the word and I'll back off. I just need you to prove that you're not this type of guy. I can take one for the team. I just need to know that you aren't willing to damn us all.' _

But Sebastian wouldn't give up the ghost. "With who?"

It was too much. Too much to ask one person to handle without breaking. Book and pen went flying; Sebastian moved back with them as though thrown too. Duke was aware that he was shouting, but couldn't for the life of him really say about what. Olivia? Viola? The game? It was all a jumble of betrayal and confusion. He probably would have stepped aside, or at least been civil about it, if Sebastian had been up front about the Olivia thing. If Sebastian had come out and asked for help with his soccer, Duke probably would have agreed to that too. So many of their problems never needed to exist. Except for the fact that Sebastian only wanted to become a starter for the chance to help Cornwall win.

But the problem at the heart of it all was what cut deepest.

"We were supposed to be _friends_!" Duke just couldn't figure it out; how a guy who'd been a total stranger two weeks ago had come to know him better than friends he'd had for years. But in the end, it had all been a blind, an act.

"We _are _friends!" Was Sebastian serious? He looked serious.

Duke couldn't believe that. How far was Sebastian going to take this? How stupid did he think he was? "You don't even know the meaning of the word."

Without realizing it Duke had backed them up to the door. Clearly, that was Sebastian's breaking point. He started pushing back, physically and verbally. "Olivia never liked you, okay? She was just using you to make me jealous."

The righteous rage that had fueled Duke was gone like the wind. That Sebastian would resort to bursting out with such a thing made him weary. Still angry, yes, but mostly just…unhappy. Like he was falling down a hold with no bottom and watching the only way out get smaller and smaller. Until Sebastian's next words made it through to his brain and created some metaphorical ground to smack into him like rock.

"But Viola…She's crazy about you. And she had been since the first moment that you kissed her." Sebastian said desperately. He was still trying to worm his way out, even though he looked like me might cry.

"Oh, yeah?" Duke was oddly calm. The wound of Viola had already been struck raw and that part of him was numb. There was too much else. Everything was coming apart at the seams, and it was clear now that Sebastian was struggling to manage his unraveling scheme. What else did he have to lose? Duke wasted no time in laying out everything he knew about Viola and all the cheating. "I bet that's part of your little plan. Distract me so you can move in right next to Olivia." _'Then your sister distracts me long enough for you to lose this game for us.' _

"No! That is _not _what happened." His voice was shrill while shouting. Sebastian was getting a little hysterical upon being faced with his handiwork. Well, if he couldn't take the heat, then…

"You…You and your sister have a good life." It was much nicer than what he was thinking, and with that, Duke unceremoniously grabbed a handful of Sebastian's shirt and hurled him through the threshold.

'_One less thing to worry about.'_

* * *

"_I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life in plastic, it's fantastic! I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life in plastic, it's fantastic!" _Three minutes after Sebastian left (for lack of a better term) his phone started ringing. It was lying on his bed, on the top of the bag that Sebastian had tossed there. From his own bed, Duke could lean over and see half of the display. 'Justi…'

It didn't matter anyway. He certainly wasn't about to answer it.

Eighteen minutes later. _"I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life in plastic, it's fantastic! I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life in plastic, it's fantastic!"_ Jesus, this girl was persistent. Maybe she was involved with the Cornwall side, and was trying to finalize whatever the plan of attack was for tomorrow. He really should answer the phone, just for that much.

"_I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life in plastic, it's fantastic! I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life in plastic, it's fantastic!"_ The third call came after twenty-six minutes, and two more followed almost immediately thereafter. Same girl each time. Was she insane or just stupid?

Duke glanced at the clock and sighed. He really should be asleep by now. He really wanted to be asleep by now. His duffle bag for tomorrow was already by the door, and most of his equipment was already in his locker. The only thing left to do was sleep, but he only managed to change half his clothing before collapsing on the bed. He could feel the beginning of a world-class headache, the backs of his eyes throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

_Thump, thump! Thump! Thump, thump, thump!_ Only the rattling of the hinges on the door separated the sound outside from his head. Obviously Sebastian had gotten his fill of trying to sleep on a bench.

"Sebastian, open up! It's Monique." Or maybe he'd stayed away because he knew a crazy ex was bound to show up. Christ, how many girls were going to fall for Sebastian's tactics? Duke debated ignoring her. "You have got a lot of explaining to do, followed by a _very_ long night of groveling." Ugh. Sounded like she was ready to stick around. Her voice, even muffled by the door, grated on Duke's nerves. He wrenched the damn thing open, determined to have as little contact with her as possible.

"He's not here!" _Slam! _Quick and effective.

The bubblegum music sounded again from the phone. _"I'm a Barbie girl, in a Bar-"_ Duke cursed, now standing between his very own Scylla and Charybdis. He just wanted everyone to shut the hell up. Why not let the two beasts battle each other?

The door swung open easily, probably afraid of more abuse from either side. Monique hadn't moved an inch, dumbfounded. "Here. Take his stupid cell phone. Justine calls every ten seconds." Maybe they would never speak to him again. Maybe they would hunt down Sebastian too. Duke had to admit he felt a little better. Regardless of the outcome, giving a guy's cell phone to his ex was bound to stir the pot a little.

"Ugh! _Sebastian!_"

Duke grinned.

It couldn't have been too much later that the opening of the door jarred him awake. Malcolm must have given Sebastian a spare key, damn him. Round two with his roommate didn't seem all that appealing, so instead Duke kept his eyes shut and stayed still. Sebastian spoke out loud, but not loudly. He didn't sound concerned with being heard. Had he gotten his cell phone back?

There was a lot of shifting and rustling; Duke strained to hear what he was saying.

"Vi, you set up all the stuff. Thanks."

Of course she had. Like a house of cards, everything and everyone was set up to fall just the way they wanted. For right now, the damn Hastings siblings held all those cards. But Duke would change that first thing in the morning.

First thing.

* * *

End Part 7

Thank you all so much for hanging around while I take months to update! I'm hopeful to get this finished up before the end of the year, so the next few parts should be up more quickly. Please feel free to review or send me a message with your thoughts and opinions. I love hearing from everyone, and I always try to respond in a reasonable amount of time;-)

Minimal notes this time, I promise;-)

Hurt is in the mind: This is paraphrased from a famous quote by Vince Lombardi- "Nobody is hurt. Hurt is in the mind. If you can walk, you can run."

Dinklage and Duke's conversation: In case you forgot from waaay back in chapter two, Duke and Toby were mentioned as the only two seniors to have been starters since their freshmen year. While that doesn't totally rule out two new players starting in another year, I'm saying that it wouldn't happen for the first game on a team so well stocked with upperclassmen (especially since they don't seem to get too many new people at tryouts). Those who've read recently or just have amazing memory, you may also recall from chapter 1 that Feldman (now a sophomore) _was_ a starter for three games in his freshman year, but none of those were the first game. As I've mentioned before, we don't really get a lot of info on the Illyrian roster, so I've taken a lot of liberty in assigning positions, years, and game experience (though I make every effort to keep these things consistent from chapter to chapter and with the movie!).

Barnum Avenue: This is an actual street near Stratford, CT. To the best of my knowledge, the description of the area is accurate, but I make no guarantees;-)

Scylla and Charybdis: These are two mythical monsters, largely known for their appearance in _The Odyssey_, who supposedly make passing between impossible. A sort of representation of the 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' phenomenon;-)


	8. Who's Gonna Bring That Blood and Pain?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! There is no excuse for such a long delay. I can't thank everyone who still reviewed and emailed me enough, even though I've been totally terrible at updating. Without you all there would be no story!

There are only two chapters left, and I will work as quickly as I can to get them out in a timely fashion. For those of you following along with the movie menu, we're up to last scene selection screen! (Which has sort of been my personal way of tracking how far along in the actual movie I am;-) It didn't occur to me until writing this that Duke has no actual lines in this chunk of the movie, except in the huddle right before the game. He spends most of his time glaring;-) But as always, I think there's more going here on that the movie shows!

Lots of notes at the end, for anyone who might be confused by some of the soccer stuff in this part.

Disclaimer: Still don't own the movie, the play, any of Shakespeare's other works I quote from here, or any of the brands/trademarks mentioned. Please be advised there is some language in this chapter, as we have a large number of young men getting angry and those things slip out.

Play On

Chap 8

_If you're not sure what to do with the ball, just pop it in the net and we'll discuss your options afterwards._ - Bill Shankly

_If anything goes bad, I did it. If anything goes semi-good, we did it. If anything goes really good, then you did it. That's all it takes to get people to win games for you_. - Paul "Bear" Bryant

Dinklage was in his office by 6am on game days, without fail. Duke was pretty sure that Dinklage would expect him to show up early regardless of what happened yesterday, but the fact that he'd gone missing the night before cemented the need to put in some face time.

Whether or not he'd _come out_ of said meeting was another matter, and one he was much less certain about. It wouldn't be unheard of for him to be benched for his little disappearing act. Not to mention, Duke was certain that he was going to find himself running up and down staircases everyday for the next six months. It would be worth it, though, if it meant that his team would end up winning. That Cornwall couldn't take them by surprise, or turn them against each other. On the other hand, if they lost because Duke was benchwarming the whole game, he'd never forgive himself.

'_How did it come to this?'_ It hadn't been so long ago that he'd felt almost arrogantly confident in his plan to win the confidence of his coach and team. He'd set his sights squarely on a state title, considering the Cornwall game and conference playoffs stepping stones to greater things. Where did everything go wrong?

Was it improper preparation over the summer? Was he doomed from the start?

Had it been in his willingness to cut off his best friend because of feelings for a girl?

Duke blinked in surprise, and then wilted back into his pillow just a bit, as he realized he'd done as much twice now in the past few months. Perhaps all this time he'd been fooling himself, thinking that soccer was his first priority. Clearly, it had been too easy to shake his concentration with a pretty face. Why had it taken him so long to see his own major weakness? Treacherous desire clawed at him still, and he was helpless against the thought of Viola's face: turned up towards him at the carnival, blushing in her pale dress, laughing over the phone. _'Will she be at the game today?'_ Despite everything, he _wanted_ to see her. It was impossible to believe that she hadn't felt _anything_ the few times they'd been together. Maybe…

But there was nothing to be done about it now. The alarm next to his head buzzed to reiterate the point. '_You're out of time.' _

Sebastian, surprisingly, slept through the sound without a twitch. _'Lazy ass. When you were trying to butter me up, you jumped up at that alarm.'_ Part of him wanted to give Sebastian a hard foot to the kidneys as a wake up call and confess he knew everything. Instead, Duke gave his roommate a momentary glare and then tried to settle his mind on more important things. _'You won't get me again. I'm onto you, and you're going down.'_

Though he spared to effort no be quiet, Sebastian still hadn't budged an inch as Duke finished packing his duffle. He heaved the bag over one shoulder and brushed out the door without a second glance.

Campus was quiet in the early morning on Saturdays, but that would change in a few hours. The empty soccer stadium, too, would be a cherished sight from now until the state tournament was over. Once soccer season really kicked off, students would come out to watch everything from warm ups and scrimmage to even the lowliest games. Pep rallies before games and cheer squad practice off the sidelines would become commonplace too. Though no love was lost by anyone running the long staircases or listening to Dinklage's shouts echo off the rafters, spending so much time in the locker room, on the field, and in the stands made it intangibly _theirs. _Now it would be a public madhouse, and while that was fun in its own way too, it came with a bewildering sense of loss.

Of course, if anyone had a right to feel ownership of the soccer pitch, it was the only other man in Duke's eyesight as he crossed the field. Clean, white lines gleamed up from the pitch, a sure sign that the grounds keeping crew had been at work since the early hours of the morning. Duke took a quick detour by the scoreboard instead of going directly to Dinklage's office. What was a few more minutes, when he always already condemned?

"Hey, Mr. Acheson," He called up.

Mr. Acheson, high on a ladder above the field, squinted back down at him with a grin. The man had been Illyria's Athletic Director for well over a decade, but as a true kindred spirit of the headmaster, he was still commonly seen handling minutiae on the field before major games. Today, he'd pulled coveralls on over his suit and tie, and was determinedly applying the _Cornwall _letter transfers to the guest side of the scoreboard. "Good morning, captain." Duke mentally cringed. It was a polite greeting, but felt like salt pouring into a wound. "Are you ready for today?"

Duke opened his mouth intending to give a standard sort of noncommittal response, but couldn't keep down the bitterness. "If anything, I think I know way _too_ much about what's going to happen today."

The director cheerfully ignored him. "Should be a great, competitive, match! Or can I flatter you as much to say, perhaps it won't be so competitive?"

"Please don't."

**

* * *

  
**

The early fall days were slowly getting shorter, but the sun had well winked over the horizon as Duke walked into the locker room staring at his feet. Light ran out from under the door to the office, so Duke knew the coach was in. He also knew that he needed to take his punishment like a man; it would be at least one action that Dinklage would likely appreciate. He took a deep breath and tried to memorize the silence of the locker room- calm and solid- before Dinklage inevitably laid into him. Ironically, a forceful lecture was his least terrifying option. If Dinklage were _really_ pissed- and chances were good that he would be- he'd only say a few quiet words and ignore Duke for the rest of the season. Duke wasn't sure what he'd do without comfort of his soccer family.

So he fervently hoped those quiet words weren't going to be 'You're off the team.'

_Rap, rap, rap. _He knocked softly on the door, uncharacteristically closed. The creak of a chair followed a shuffling of papers, then a heavy sigh a second or two later. "Come in."

It was only by conscious force of will that Duke didn't gulp or tremble. _'Be a man.' _"Coach. Do you have a minute?" Dinklage looked him straight in the eye and nodded, his gaze grimly amused in a way Duke suspected was similar to a lion about to maim its outmatched prey. Not because it liked going through the work, but because that's just what nature intended to happen. Duke wondered if he should save them both the time and struggle and just resign from the team then and there. They would probably be better off without him.

"Coach, I…" That was as far as Duke could go, finding himself at a loss for words. Better though it may be, he was incapable of walking away.

"No." On some occasions, usually only when Dinklage allowed it and not often lately, Duke could read his mentor's tone and expression in a way that made whatever he might say next entirely redundant. It was a skill Duke liked to attribute partially to an intelligent understanding of their team and the game itself, and partially to spending several years under his guidance. But the desire to please sometimes got the better of him, and he couldn't help but believe there might be some modicum of helpfulness in the small interjection.

Duke shook off the feeling. No way Dinklage would overlook this, especially given how Duke'd been acting lately. _'He won't even hear a word I have to say? He's just going to chuck me out?' _

Feeling as though his lungs were suddenly too big for his ribs, but incongruously out of breath, Duke tried again. "Coach, you _have_ to listen." The heaviness in his chest suddenly broke forward in a gush of emotional momentum. It didn't matter to him, on a personal level, if he played or didn't play. It didn't matter if he lead the team, or someone else did. What he wanted, more than anything, was for Illyria to win this game and to go on to win the title- with or without him. Or at the very least, lose to a good team in a fair match. _'It's okay, it's okay. There's still time. Dinklage won't let Sebastian get them. He'll listen to _that_ much.' _But the stirrings of panic made his words trip out too quickly, too weak; the voice was unable to keep pace with the heart."We can't, _can't_…there's no way…You can't let-"

"No." Dinklage repeated, shaking his head slightly for effect this time. "No, you can't offer to run laps until the end of time to make up for skipping out the night before a big game. No, there's _nothing_ you can do make this up to me." Duke squeezed his eyes shut; the team _would_ be better with someone else as captain. He could force himself to believe that much, but the thought still burned. Dinklage cleared his throat intentionally so that Duke would look up again. "And no, you can't resign. Nor will I allow you to sit on your ass all afternoon while your teammates try their damndest to beat Cornwall."

"_You_ are a leader of this team. If you prefer to spend your time doing God-knows what instead of trying to better prepare yourself and your team for the game, so be it. I don't like it, but try as I might, I can't _make_ you care more than what you will. Your apology, your time, your guilt and whatever effort you've got should be given to _them_. I'll tell you right now that it's all wasted on me. However, I have to say that my last captain never acted in such a way."

Duke flopped angrily, if ungracefully, into a chair across from the desk, elbows propped against knees. His head dropped into his hands and he thought for a second he might throw up. He knew it meant something important that he didn't stack up against his predecessor, but part of him couldn't help but be glad for the distinction. _'I'd rather be a decent human being than a great captain, if it comes down to it.' _ "Then why do you keep giving me chances when I keep screwing up so much?" he spat petulantly.

"I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice." Dinklage replied. Duke nodded without really understanding or looking up, concentrating intently on trying to read the paperwork on the desk upside down to avoid eye contact. '_CIAC_ _Rules of Eligibility and Control…' _Dinklage paused. "But I don't think you're doing as poorly as you think you are. You care for these guys, and that's worth a lot."

Duke pulled himself forward slightly, as if drawn to the quasi-praise, but didn't move his eyes up from the desk. He was too afraid of breaking and tried to calm his turbulent mind and emotions. Dinklage had made a few pen marks halfway down on one of the pages, but his hand was blocking most of the paragraph and it could only be seen in pieces. _'Section F…_ _Girls may participate on… program in that sport… may enter either the boys or the girls tournament, but not both.'_

"Tell me something: why did you take Hastings under your wing?"

"Why did I…" Duke rasped. Betrayal and disappointment sat heavily on his shoulders, and he felt and spoke like a man who couldn't breathe. There was so much. "I just thought…He needed…some help. Someone to…" Dinklage's face was the picture of patience, devoid of judgment. He might be looking for something in particular, but if so, there was no indication of what.

"Forgive me, but you don't sound as if you're completely certain as to why."

Duke knew why. _You need to show greatness._ That was the direction he'd been given two weeks ago, but Duke had no clue exactly where he'd ended up. Too many plans maybe, and not enough time, not enough honesty.

"Fine." Duke stood. "Fine!" He was startled by his own outburst, but Dinklage only sat and let him continue uninterrupted. "It was me. _It was all for me._ I thought that if I could take Sebastian from bottom rung to starter, it would prove to you that _I_ was good enough. _Great_, even. I _knew_ I could. But I didn't tell him, and then it became about all this other stuff. And it was all wrong. Sebastian's going to bring us all down, and it's my fault for letting it happen."

"You thought I'd replace you if you didn't do something."

"Yeah…no. Maybe. I just knew that if you thought we could be great, I didn't want to be the reason we weren't_._ If I wasn't cutting it, I wanted to change. I wanted to be…"

All he really felt right now was pathetic. _'Even Dinklage realizes I'm too pitiful to yell at. I wanted to be so good at this. I _wantedto begreat_!' _He looked up at Coach once more, wishing he had the words for it. How could he explain how much he loved this game, how much faith he put in his mentor's approval? There weren't any ways to express out loud the dark emotions stirred up in his heart by seeing his teammates injured, betrayed. Harsh words floated around in his head, until some memory broke surface.

"_What the hell am I supposed to say?"_

"_Hell if I know, man." _

The flashback twisted around in his mind; the voice morphing and taunting him. _Hell if I know._

_Hell if I know. _It summed up everything. _I don't know either_, Duke suddenly wished he'd replied. There was appealing kind of safety in not being lost alone.

Dinklage nodded, as though the rambling made perfect sense. "I'd tell you a secret, but I think you already know. Most of the time, very few people will concern themselves with 'why'. In a sport, in a job, in anything. You'll win, or you won't. Your guys will get it right, or they won't. And that's the reality of the game. But there's more to life than that. I'd like to believe that you will come away from this team with more than that."

"Coach?" _'What is he trying to say? I don't understand.'_ The confusion was suddenly like lightning; a brilliant, painfully direct hit. _Hell if I know. _There _was_ failure, and bad judgment, and weakness, and mistakes. There were all of those things and more. There were friends, enemies, pretty girls, and people who were utterly mystifying. But he'd missed the point of it all entirely. It wasn't having all the answers, being perfect from the start. It wasn't in expecting no failure, accepting no problems.

It was in knowing all those things, and still believing.

Dinklage was still talking, for once seemingly mundane against Duke's internal epiphany. "In the end, regardless of the reason, both you and Hastings are now better members of this team. I said it before: I can't _make_ you care. When you spend that much extra time on the field- for a teammate, or for yourself- it's a good sign that you do care about where the team is headed. I've seen you run extra laps to encourage them, make an idiot of yourself trying to get them to enjoy themselves. You come in early and stay out there late. Those are things no one does unless they care about what they're doing, and the people who benefit from it." Dinklage paused, and then took a harder tone. "Which is why I'm surprised that you were a no-show yesterday. I'd thought we had already addressed your propensity to not show up for things."

"This was important." Duke surprised himself with the quiet reply. He wasn't usually so forward, but his realization had given him something solid inside. A resolute kind of control that he'd never known before. "It's not like that breakfast thing. I did want to meet you, but I needed to talk to some of the guys on the team. Especially Sebastian. It was worth it, too. They have just as much at stake as I do."

Dinklage blinked, and despite the severity of the situation, Duke had the dark urge to chuckle. It wasn't too often he could surprise the man, and the irony that he'd really done what he'd set out to do wasn't lost on him. Dinklage had noticed the effort, for whatever it was worth now. "So you're happy with your decisions." It wasn't a question, but there was an unmistakable hint of sarcasm.

"No. I wish I could change a lot of things. But yesterday, at least, I think I did all I could." It was the most honest thing he'd said in a long time and the words were cathartic as they left his mouth. His own life may be crumbling, but he had the strength yet to protect his teammates. If Dinklage was going to credit him with becoming a better part of the team, then he was going to do his best to earn at least a small part of it. "Coach, I know I've made a lot of mistakes, and I don't deserve it, but _please_- Don't start Sebastian today." Cutting class and ditching meetings, failing chemistry, and gluing his ass to the bench would all be worth it if it protected this team.

Dinklage fixed him with a hard look, and Duke knew he wanted to ask what had brought this on. How could he want to sandbag his roommate and pet project like this? For a moment, Duke envied the ignorance, but met the coach's eyes, trying to convey the seriousness of the request. It _was_ unfair, really, to both coach and player, to request such a thing. Sebastian hadn't betrayed them, not officially, not yet. _'But…' _

Silence. Then…

"I'll think about it. No promises."

**

* * *

  
**

The locker room was a little dizzying in its activity after the quiet intensity of Dinklage's office. During the interlude, the rest of team had shown up in force. Ewing and Sanger were already dressed and loudly commenting on the lesser status of Cornwall's cheerleaders to their own while Donner stood close by, ashen-faced, and tried his best to force a laugh at appropriate moments. Duke thought he looked a little nauseous, and privately hoped that they could get through the game without the poor kid fainting. Boisterous interruptions and hooting come from half a dozen others, scattered in various states of dress throughout the locker bank. Everyone was in high spirits.

Toby, Bentley, and Andrew were quietly holding court on the other side of the room, eyeing everyone as they entered. Duke glances around the room as a he joined them. "Any sign of him?" _'I hope he just skips the game. We'd be better off without him.'_

Cohen, sitting on the bench below, shook his head without looking up. "Nope. No one saw him at breakfast either." He continued to wrap his ankle with a look a great concentration. Guilt flashed through Duke at the sight. Without Sebastian, traitor or not, Cohen would have to play on his bad ankle. Another casualty of his selfishness and ignorance. Bentley spoke next.

"Did you see him at all last night?"

"Yeah, but he…" _'Pissed me off and I kicked him out, and God knows who he spent his night talking to. Not the smartest move I've ever made. What the hell was I thinking?' _"…left for awhile and came back late. He was still sleeping when I left this morning."

Andrew tilted his head. "Think we should go get him? Or just let him…do whatever." Translation: Try and cut him off early or give him the chance to run away? They were all trying not alarm anyone who might be listening, but Duke was pretty sure that everyone else in the room was more interest in Sanger and Feldman's disparaging review of Cornwall's overall hygiene.

Toby spoke up with a shrug. "Maybe we should just ignore it and let him do his thing." Four heads snapped up to stare, and Toby quickly moved to elaborate. "I mean, with all of us out there ready for him, how much damage can he _really_ do? But think about the result: if he does something to try and totally screw up the game, Dinklage will bench him _at least._ Maybe he'll even get a red card and we won't have to worry about him at all."

Duke felt torn. "You really want to play a man down against Cornwall?" Part of him, the part that had come to consider Sebastian as one of his closest friends, still held out hope that the boy would wake this morning and not want to go through with it. Or that maybe Sebastian had just been extremely pissed off last night, as Duke himself had been, and didn't really mean what he'd said.

But it would past naïve- ridiculously stupid, even- to count on that. And a larger part of him was still utterly betrayed and pretty sure that having to play with Sebastian right now would end badly for everyone. An ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure...

"Go get his cleats from the room and bring them here." Duke decided. If he showed, then they'd be on guard and let him speak for himself. But he'd have to face his team here first. "If he's still in the room, remind him we're waiting. Don't push the issue." If Sebastian wanted to run, then he'd let the traitor bolt. Good riddance.

Andrew and Toby nodded and pushed open the door. As it closed, a manicured hand thrust forward from the hallway and caught it an inch from the threshold. Valentine's head and shoulders popped through a second later, her left hand comically thrown over her eyes. "Hey guys! Everybody decent? Or not; that's okay with me too!" She giggled, and some of the guys in the room laughed with her at the longstanding joke. Through the slim opening, Duke warily eyed Yuri, Jessica, and a number of other cheerleaders fidgeting excitedly behind her. What was this?

Val took the non-response as a cue to enter, and opened her eyes with a bright smile. "Since we're opening the season against Cornwall this year, we'd thought it'd be fun to send you guys out there with something special!" She announced to the room. Despite his dark mood, Duke felt his mouth twitch towards a smile. Val had her faults, but her heart was in the right place. If the job of a cheerleader was to inspire the team and the crowd, Duke had to admit she was good at it. Those girls had worked hard for today as well, and it was yet another reason for him to be angry with Sebastian and himself. His betrayal wasn't just a matter of pissing off teammates, but everyone at Illyria who contributed. Duke rolled his shoulders, trying to brush off the anger as Val continued, brandishing a bright red compact and stick of eyeblack. "What better way to make a show of force than with our colors? We'll be waiting in the hall- just send us someone out and we'll send you back an armadillo solider!"

While more than one confused look went around the room, her excitement was infectious, and almost everyone gave a nod or grin. Thus encouraged, Yuri and Jessica bounded into the locker room and latched onto Duke. "You first, captain!"

No amount of pleading or fast-talking could convince the horde of girls to target someone else, and Duke was eventually forced to submit with begrudging goodwill. When Valentine held up her compact mirror with a knowing smirk, however, he felt compelled to agree that they would make an intimidating picture coming onto the field. Half his face glared back in harsh red, while the other half was masked in black stripes. The effect was menacing and right on the money.

"Alright," Duke admitted, "It's a good idea. This actually looks really cool. Just make sure you get through everyone before the coin toss will you? We don't have a whole lot of time."

"No problem." Val agreed easily. "Just send 'em on out here. I think Jessica, Mara, and Alex are almost done with Cohen and Bentley too. We wanted to send all the seniors in together, but we can't find Toby, Sebastian, or Andrew."

"Get everyone else first. They'll get here when the get here." _'Or not.' _

**

* * *

  
**

The 'war paint' had the intended effect when the three present seniors walked back into the room. There was a moment of awed silence, followed almost immediately by cheers and a stampede to be next. Duke let them dash for the door- let Val decide how to order them- and took a seat by his locker. Andrew ducked in next to him, fighting the push to the hallway like fish swimming upstream.

"Toby's getting the facial treatment outside. Cool idea."

Duke glared at the distraction. Andrew shrugged in response to the unasked question. "He was still asleep. Toby jacked his cleats and I decked him with a ball to wake him up a bit. Don't know whether he'll show or not." Allgood returned from the mad rush in hall sporting identical face paint, and Andrew jumped up. "I'm gonna go get me some of that!"

The swirling noise quieted momentarily as a deep bellow sounded from the inner office. "You have ten minutes ladies! If you're not ready to go out then, you don't go at all."

Donner, who had just returned in from the onslaught of cheerleader, gulped audibly and dropped the shoe he'd been trying to lace. Duke struggled to remember the minutes immediately before his first game, but could only come up with vague recollections of standing in the bathroom trying not to throw up. _'Hmm.'_

"You alright, man? You look a little…uneasy." _'Poor kid. This nervous and he probably won't even play! Good thing.'_

Donner took another gulp of air. "Uneasy is a good word for it. I'm not sure I…"

Just then Andrew strolled back in, beaming in red and black, to clap him on the back. "No worries, kid. If you feel like you're going to upchuck, just aim for the Cornwall student section. No one'll even notice." _The Cornwall student section. _It echoed in Duke's mind, and he couldn't make himself let go of the vain hope. _'Will Viola be here? Does she even care…?' _

"Okay ladies! Listen up." Dinklage's presence immediately commanded attention. All chatter ceased as Dinklage glanced around. "Where's Hastings?"

"Who cares?" He couldn't stop the muttered insult if he tried, and he certainly didn't try. '_So Dinklage is still planning on using Sebastian. Damn it!'_

"He's getting painted, sir." Andrew piped up. Duke glared at him _'You weren't going to mention that?' _

"_Hastings!" _The coach stalked to the door, and Duke seized his inattention to hiss at Andrew.

"What the hell?"

"He showed up just now!" Andrew whispered back. "I figured it was best to keep him with us. I mean, if he seriously intends to play today, then Toby's plan is best, isn't it? We'll stop him from doing anything _too _bad, and he'll hang himself."

Sebastian now peeked in from the doorway, looking more than a little confused. "You, you want…You want me to play?"

So Sebastian had guessed that Duke would take his knowledge to Dinklage. It was easy enough to realize, really. Inwardly, Duke cursed himself for sending anyone to the room, and Dinklage for not taking his concerns seriously. His roommate had clearly intended to sleep in and skip the game, thinking himself exposed for what he really was: a manipulative traitor. Maybe it was just the harsh light of reality facing him, but Sebastian suddenly _looked_ _like_ an entirely different person than the one that had become his unlikely best friend.

"Alright, girls. We have serious business today." Dinklage commanded the attention of the room once again. "Cornwall is a good team, and they're going to be hungry for a victory today. It's not going to be easy, but that doesn't mean we will be willing to concede _anything._ You have all worked for this moment- the beginning of the season, the chance to have everything. You've sacrificed your time, sweat, and blood for it; don't let anyone take it. Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. You are in command of your own destiny today." He glanced around the room, eyes landing on Duke. "Now let's suit up and go make an entrance. Seniors first."

The warm-up suits weren't exactly necessary, but Duke always appreciated the idea of appearing to the crowd and opposition as a united front. He rose to go stand with the others, but Dinklage stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Don't forget this." The coach pressed an Illyria banner into his hand, "You're representing our entire school today. Take pride in it." Above them, Duke could hear the stands start to roar as the cheerleaders took their places for the entrance. The faint vibration of clapping and stomping rumbled lightly through the walls.

He nodded, meeting Dinklage's eyes. There weren't really words for a moment like this, and Duke was grateful Dinklage didn't make him try to find any.

**

* * *

  
**

Duke was aware of things around him in a detached sort of way: Assistant Coach Rodriguez slapping them all on the back as the filed out of the locker room, a yearbook staffer snapping pictures of the group walking to the field exit, the band striking up their entrance music and the crowd clapping along. But nothing could seem to totally penetrate the empty buzzing the filled his head.

This was it. He was leading his team, his school, into his first game as captain. Was there supposed to be some kind of special emotion for this? Or maybe it was better without; Duke was positive if not for the stuffy numbness in his head, he might be flailing about in terror. Not from Cornwall specifically- _'Bunch of losers.'_- but at the general possibility of catastrophic failure. They paused at the gate to the pitch, waiting for Cornwall to finish their pathetic little show of pageantry.

Toby's voice over his shoulder partially broke through the haze. "Lead on, Macduff." He grinned. "We're all right behind you."

"_Lay _on." Duke corrected without thinking. Toby arched an eyebrow and Andrew grinned in surprise. Cohen rolled his eyes when Duke continued. "It's 'Lay on, Macduff.' That's what you get for dropping advanced lit. Guess it's still appropriate though." He added, as Toby's annoyed '_whatever'_ slipped through.

But the distraction worked. His surroundings were thrown into stark relief, banishing the clouds in his head, and Duke walked boldly into the sunlight. _'Lay on, Macduff. And damned be him that first cries 'Hold! Enough!'.' _

The Cornwall side tried and failed to look unimpressed as they marched out. While perhaps the Illyrians fell short of inspiring fear, Duke was pretty sure there was plenty of envy and anger going on over there. Drayton in particular looked about ready to swallow his own tongue, if his jaw clenching was any indication. The Cornwall students were seated beside the band, but the bright sunlight made it difficult for Duke to see who might be there. Was Viola watching from there right now?

He didn't get the chance to dwell on thoughts of the crowd for long. Dinklage quickly set them to warm up exercises, and Duke struggled to keep his attention on his teammates. It was critical to avoid injuries now. Cornwall seemed to be doing likewise, though Drayton cast his glance to their end of the field more than once. Duke glared back each time until Drayton looked away, but the battle of wills grew longer and more frequent as the warm up period drew the an end. By the time the officials called for the coin toss, both had given up the pretense of glancing over their shoulders were engaged in a full fledged staring contest.

"Afternoon gentlemen." The officials were polite but not chatty, and Duke appreciated this. They may be professionals, but this was all out war for the players.

"Handshake please." Drayton moved his hand as though he would comply, but then made a show of only putting on his glove. Duke didn't move an inch, not really feeling the need to extend him any additional courtesy. He shifted his shoulders again, reflexively trying to dislodge the tension. Dinklage would lay into him for the poor sportsmanship later, but what was the point of trying to be friendly with someone who so determined to be an asshole? _'I'm almost glad you put a spy on our team. You're going to need all the help you can get, moron. And when it's over, you, your team, and Sebastian will have nothing.'_

Duke watched the pre-game formalities trip past with little concern. The coin rose and fell to the ground, but neither boy turned their eyes down to watch it. Duke refused to give Drayton any kind of response he could use. _'Don't concede anything.'_

"How's your jaw?" The taunt came only as Drayton started move back to his team. Duke wanted to shake his head at the obvious cowardice. Drayton had come out on the losing side of their last entanglement, and Duke wouldn't mind reminding him. With a fist to the face. _'Bruised and bloody; he'd be a walking tribute to Illyria.'_

He didn't stop starting until Drayton was forced to turn around into his team huddle, and then Duke let himself go. "Alright, let's get it on!" His teammates circled around him instantly. It was easy to let the betrayal, the pain and anger melt into something else. A new kind of energy: the will to fight. They were ready. Too powerful for Cornwall; Duke felt it instantly. They must all be able to feel it too. "I ain't got much to say to you." What more could he add? To sully this moment by speaking of Cornwall seemed a crime; it was all about only _them_. His friends and teammates, who were ready to stand together. Yet, the image of Justin Drayton, crying on the field as time expired, nursing a bruise or two held a special kind of appeal too. "Except…_Who's gonna bring that blood and pain?_"

"_Black and red!"_

"Alright, boys! Here we go!" It was time to play.

The kickoff went smoothly, though Duke couldn't really pinpoint why he was surprised. Did he expect Sebastian to make some kind of dramatic effort to intercede?

After a few moments, Duke launched a volley to Toby, who neatly caught it and started to dribble forward when a blue shirt surprised him from behind. Duke cursed himself for allowing defensive coverage between them, and Toby had no choice but to pass to Sebastian. In the back of his mind, Duke was loosely aware of Dinklage bellowing for him to pass it off again. _'Maybe he's not entirely certain of Sebastian after all.' _Could it be so easy? Would this be the moment that showed Sebastian Hastings to be a traitor?

For exactly one second, Duke thought that maybe he'd been entirely wrong. Sebastian started forward with the ball, and Allgood and Toby scrambled to cut behind the Cornwall defenders to receive the next pass. _'Could he really…?' _But Sebastian faltered, looking for all the world as though he had no idea how to run on his own two feet, much less protect the ball, and Cornwall made off with it easily. It looked so…_clumsy_!

Duke bristled. This was just insulting.

"_You have to know…I love soccer more than anything!" _His memory reminded him of the only defense Sebastian had put forth. There had been some kind of cold comfort in that much of an explanation; something that Duke could understand even if he didn't agree. But watching _that_ little display made him wonder if even that had been true. Who could love playing soccer so much that they wouldn't put everything into it? If his intention had been to make things easy for Cornwall, then why wouldn't he just _do_ it; make a pass to a Cornwall striker or take a shot on Ewing as though he were trying to save it? This suddenly wasn't just a question of loyalty; it was about integrity! How dare he come out and act like this? To try and act like he didn't know _anything_, when all of them, Duke especially, knew how good he was, how much he'd improved…

He couldn't stop himself from running up behind Sebastian. They really were back to square one: the year began with an incompetent Sebastian turning on them by pulling the fire alarm, now here they were with an incompetent Sebastian throwing the game. _"Nice job pulling the fire alarm, moron."_ Andrew'd said.

"Nice move, moron." _'I see what you're up to, and it's more offensive than anything else I could have thought of. If you're going to make a move, then make it! Let's see what you're made of!' _

Meanwhile, Cornwall drove downfield with the ball. Leslie and Andrew stalked the forward, Toby just behind them, trying to find an opening for a steal, but it was a lost cause. Duke was forced to admit, they weren't half bad. However, they wanted too much too soon, and Ewing was completely ready for the shot the middle of the net. He booted the harmless shot back to Leslie, who thankfully avoided Sebastian and passed to Haimes. Unfortunately, Haimes didn't seem to be perturbed by Sebastian's bout of klutziness, and cut in front of the boy for the backward pass play that had been so successful in practice.

It would have been a good plan on anyone else. Sebastian either didn't see or care about the ball and crashed straight to his back. _'Probably didn't even faze him. He did that often enough when he tried to learn the bicycle kick. Was he planning this even then?'_ The depressing thoughts only added to Duke's determination.

Perhaps Cornwall had been expecting something else also, because no one seemed to know what to make of Sebastian's little performance. In fact, it seemed to make them a little uneasy. A Cornwall halfback corralled the ball and took off the other way, but his concentration was still on Sebastian and his pass went wild to the sideline.

Or it would have, if not for the dress shoe that stopped it at the line. Principal Gold, with his toady Malcolm and _Sebastian's Ex_, stood solemnly on the sideline. _'What the _hell_?' _

**

* * *

  
**

Gold spent a few minutes blathering incoherently, during which time the officiating crew seemed grasp that he intended to pause the game. The crowd, every bit as confused as the players on the field, rose to its feet, and even the cheerleaders crept passed the sideline to get a better view.

"Could we gather round?" Despite the Headmaster's low voice, the benches emptied and both teams jockeyed for position closest to the action-whatever it would turn out to be. If Gold was trying to do some sort of peace-making exercise here, Duke was going to find a way to throttle him.

"Is there a _problem_, Principal?" Dinklage sounded both infuriated and confused. The coach usually kept his opinions about the Headmaster to himself, but it looked to Duke as though he were pretty close to opening up to the Principal right then and there.

"Yes, unfortunately there is." Gold, surprisingly, showed none of his usual dippiness and remained serious. "But, I think it's only right that Sebastian Hastings tells you himself. Sebastian?"

Duke had one word to describe himself at the moment: smug. Unlikely though it was, _Principal Gold_, of all people, had somehow found out the truth that Dinklage ignored. It probably had more to do with the satisfied looking Malcolm standing nearby than anything else, but Duke was willing to let that slide if it brought out the truth. Perhaps all that spying Malcolm had been up to was finally paying off.

"Son? Or…Do you have anything you'd like to say?" Everyone else in the stadium ceased to exist; all Duke could see was Sebastian. _'Admit it. Just come out and say it; we all know the truth already. They'll tell if you don't. Be a man.'_ Gold must have some kind of proof that Sebastian had done something to fix the game. Surely even the Headmaster wouldn't interrupt the game with anything less.

Sebastian stuttered for a moment. "Uhh…Sorry I'm not a very good soccer player?" Was he serious? Did he actually expect _anyone_ to buy that? Principal Gold, too, reacted with disappointment and Duke felt an odd moment of kinship with the man. It had to hurt him, just as it hurt Duke and the rest of the team, to know that someone he had wanted to succeed so badly was so willing to cast them aside.

A loud squeal from the megaphone pulled Duke's attention back to the field and away from mental wanderings. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed alumni, friends and family of Sebastian Hastings: I am grievously sad to inform you that Sebastian Hastings is…" _'A traitor, a liar, a untrustworthy moron. He's determined to throw the game, and had used everyone here to do it.' _ "A girl."

A what?

A _what?_

This lunacy is what they had stopped the game for? To say that Sebastian _was a girl_? _'Sweet motherf…'_ Gold's face was serious: he honestly believed it. And clearly, he'd gone completely around the bend, and taken Malcolm with him.

Sebastian grabbed the megaphone and issued some kind of denial, but the crowed had already been lost to its own laughter and confusion. Duke nervously glanced to the crew of officials, wondering how much longer they'd let this go on before booking the team for delay.

"He's actually specifically his own sister, Viola, who's been impersonating him for reasons which will become very clear after intensive psychoanalysis." Duke was too frustrated to laugh, though reaction around him was mixed between groans and chuckles. Sebastian and Viola as the same person? Well, they certainly shared some qualities, but where Sebastian had a certain knack for annoying the hell out of him, Viola…well, Viola did not.

He still wanted to see her. Duke let the argument between Gold and Sebastian fade to the background, and took a moment to scan the crowd for Viola. Would she be on the Cornwall side, with her friends? Or would she try to pass herself off as an Illyria student, to look like she supported her brother?

Of course, none of that mattered anyway, since they conspired to set him up and bombshell his team.

"I'm a boy! I _promise_!"

Malcolm was a little too content with his perceived superiority. "Prove it." The instant the words left his mouth, Duke knew this could lead nowhere good.

"Okay." And Sebastian promptly pantsed himself. _'Holy shit. What the hell is _wrong_ with this kid?'_

It took a few moments to restore order, during which time Duke gleefully noted that Malcolm's face was a train-wreck combination of fascination and horror. Sebastian, satisfied that he'd proven his point, was perhaps the most composed person the field. Dinklage stood eerily still, giving Duke the distinct impression that if there were fewer witnesses about, the Headmaster might be missing an arm or two.

"Okay lads, listen up now." Dinklage finally interrupted. "Now that we've established this boy, _is a boy_, is it possible we can get back to our game?" The sarcasm was heavy in the coach's voice, and Duke wondered if perhaps Dinklage knew something the rest of them didn't.

Gold muttered a few feeble excuses, and suddenly the game was back on. _'Just like that? Sebastian gets to stay?'_ Duke checked him in the shoulder on his way back to the field.

"Good work, Hastings." Dinklage's voice carried to Duke in a low tone. "Bench."

Square one indeed.

* * *

Next part picks up with halftime, and we get to dive into the climax!

Notes:

Woohoo! Let's learn about soccer rules! ;-)

CIAC Rules- As some of you may remember, I placed both Cornwall and Illyria in the same conference of the CIAC (Connecticut Interscholastic Athletic Conference, specifically, I put them in the southwest conference) in an earlier part of this story. As I have come to understand CIAC rules, all members school agree to abide by and uphold the CIAC Rules of Eligibility and Control, a document that spells out just about everything regarding participation and governance of their sports (one of which, of course, is soccer). Part IV, Section F of the CIAC Rules of Eligibility contains the following: _Girls may participate on boys teams. Girls may participate on either a girls team or a boys team in the same sport, but not both, within a time period of one school year. However, a member school has discretion to exclude girls from boys teams when it can demonstrate that its overall sports program does not limit athletic opportunities for girls. Girls who participate on boys' teams, because the school does not offer a girls program in that sport, may enter either the boys or the girls tournament, but not both. Girls who choose to participate on a boys' team when the school offers a girls' team in that sport, may only enter the boys' tournament._ Does anyone see foreshadowing yet?

Booking/ red card/ yellow card: For those who may not be aware, yellow and red cards are used to call players out on misconduct during a game. Yellow card is a caution, while a red card is an ejection. A player who gets shown a red card has committed a serious offense and cannot be replaced on the field, making the team a player short for the remainder of the game. Two yellow cards equal a red card. In high school play (or at least, in CIAC tournament rules, which is the only relevant set of documented yellow card policies I could find), a yellow card can be shown to anyone- player or coach. If a player on the field is shown the yellow card, they must leave the game for ten minutes, though the team may substitute in someone else. 'Booking' refers to the referee showing a red or yellow card, as they are then supposed to write the player's name in their notebook for record. Teams who accumulate certain numbers of cards throughout the regular season can be disqualified from CIAC post-season play, which is why Duke is nervous here about getting a yellow card. Those nerves won't last much longer;-)


	9. Greatness Thrust Upon Them

So this story has officially hit more than 100 reviews- what an accomplishment! I can't thank all of you wonderful readers and reviewers enough.

Once again, I apologize for the long delay in updating. This chapter was supposed to be a short one, but Duke just wouldn't shut up about Viola;-) Also, I think I'm getting a little nostalgic, knowing that there is only one part to go. I can't believe that there's only one chapter left- and that it's taken over a year to get here!

On that note, if it's been awhile since you've read some of the previous chapters, I'd suggest looking over some of them again, especially chapters 4 and 7, as there are some flashbacks in here and context is helpful.

There are plenty of notes at the end, so I'll try to keep this part short- I don't own anything, including the movie, the play its based on, any of the plays mentioned, or anything that belongs to anyone else.

On with the show! I hope you all enjoy;-)

Play On

Chap 9

_The goal was scored a little bit by the head of Maradona, and a little bit by the hand of God. – _Diego Maradona

_Soccer is not about justice. It's a drama - and criminally wrong decisions against you are part and parcel of that -_ Pete Davies

Halftime was a blessing and a curse. Duke almost always felt that way in some fashion; the chance to rest, get your head back was coupled with the possibility of losing it and blowing everything you had going. This time was no different, though it had never been quite so intense before.

Blessing: They now had a chance to let the theatrics of the first half burn off, and come out focused and ready to win.

Curse: They could focus on the ridiculousness of the Headmaster's antics, and totally lose their grip on the game.

Blessing: Duke could fire up his teammates, and encourage them to bring everything they had out for the second half.

Curse: Everyone else would have noticed something terribly wrong with Sebastian and having a traitor in their midst might sink moral.

He needed to circle the wagons, he knew. The referee's whistle for the break was like a life preserver, granting him the chance to pull his team together. Duke watched the rest of the team jog back into the locker room, slightly encouraged by the fact that almost everyone moved with good speed and holding their heads up. He followed, moving slowly enough that even Dinklage and the coaching staff entered the building ahead of him. It would be best, he thought, to go in last. Let Drayton and all of Cornwall keep his number in mind.

Only Sebastian remained behind, seemingly confused and unwilling to move from the bench.

The cheerleaders crossed between them on their way to midfield for the halftime show, and Duke was not surprised that Sebastian was tripped up while lagging, obviously trying to watch. _'Leopards don't change their spots.' _ Duke did not look at him as he walked past the boy into the shade under the stadium; he was equal parts wanting to ignore his very existence and refusing to show how much this betrayal by his best friend stung.

The cheerleaders reached the field, and Sebastian ducked out of sight, no doubt intended to watch the show instead of going with the team. Then again, Duke wasn't really sure how he felt about facing Sebastian in the locker room just yet. Would the boy really try to maintain his pretense? Could there still be anyone on the team who might believe it? Duke, after all, had been willing believe Sebastian was on their side up until the game started.

Sebastian could make a lot of sense when he wanted to, and more than once had influenced Duke with his strange mix of insight and desperation to be liked. Surely, some the guys on the team- the ones who had been spared the details of what happened yesterday- would believe that he had stage fright, a bad start. So much the better then, that Hastings stayed away. Duke trailed his eyes in the direction Sebastian had disappeared in, hoping he wouldn't show up later with some kind of fake but totally believable excuse. At this point, Dinklage would probably keep him benched for the remainder of the game, especially if Duke asked about it again. But would that cause something akin to munity among them? If that were the next chapter in Sebastian's plan- now that he was exposed, to simply cripple the rest of the team, leave it cloven in two… He had the ability. The guy had spun excuses and lies with increasing skill for the past two weeks: midnight dates, multiple girlfriends, mysterious phone calls and skipping meetings. A virtual Teflon man.

The new guys on the team were still straining the prove themselves, and they might be sympathetic to a Mark Antony-style Sebastian making Duke out to have some kind of unrelenting grudge.

_[Caesar] was my friend, faithful and just to me:_

_But Brutus says he was ambitious;_

_And Brutus is an honorable man._

Yeah, that would work out _really _well.

A moot point, Duke decided. Sebastian wasn't going to come back, and if he did, there were more than enough people here who knew the truth, and the locker room was not a democracy. Dinklage's opinion was the only one that mattered, and he would not fold to histrionics. Duke vowed that it would not come to that, anyway.

Dinklage was still chatting quietly with the assistant coaches in the hallway as Duke herded the last of his teammates into the locker room, eyeing Cohen's slow walk with trepidation. _'How much can he take? How much can _we _take?' _The coach caught Duke by the shoulder, a now familiar motion, and pulled him a few steps away before speaking a low tone.

"You're going to win this game." It was not a question. "You're going to score within three minutes of going back out there. And when you do, I want you to make it big. I want fireworks, screaming, and I don't want the celebrating to end until there's a yellow card. Whatever it takes. You are going to prove to me, to yourself, to every one of your classmates who came to support you today that you are going to take pride in what you do, _that you and your teammates will support each other no matter what_."

"What? But...I mean, why should-" Duke tried to find a polite way to call his coach something between insane and senile, but found nothing. Dinklage merely gave a small nod and returned to the huddle of assistants.

Complaints were already floating around the room from all directions as Duke entered, liberally laced with profanity and confusion.

"What the _hell_, man? Where the hell is Sebastian?" "Who cares?"  
"What's his damage?"  
"I can't believe we're not up by at least two goals- Cornwall looks just as lost as Hastings!" "For real! How can we be tied?"

Cohen sat with Andrew and Toby, all glaring darkly at the door. _'Waiting for Sebastian, no doubt. Where the hell is he?'_

What did it really matter? Wasn't it his job to keep the focused on winning, regardless of the challenges? It would be easy to burn the guy in absentia, but at what cost? Dinklage might like them angry and edgy for gametime, but only in regards to the opponent. No thoughts of their _former_ forward, for better or for worse, were going to lock up the game.

But it could cause them to lose it.

"Guys." Duke was honestly surprised at his own voice, far rougher, quieter, than he expected. More than half the room turned to him- probably only because he had sounded more like a pissed-off Dinklage than himself - at the sound. Duke cleared his throat and tried again. "Guys! Shut up, all of you." Full silence this time; Dinklage curiously lifted an eyebrow from his casual stance in the threshold of the door.

"There are a lot of things happening right now and I can't really explain most of them. I can't control most of them either. But I will tell you, right now, that we _can_ control this game. I said at the beginning of the year that I would leave everything I had on the field, spare nothing. _Everyone_ in this room is responsible for doing the same." Duke briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Exactly who wasn't in the room need not be mentioned. "_We will give everything, and give up nothing_. Not on our own field, in our own house."

Several heads swiveled as Dinklage nodded and stepped forward. "That's right. From here on out, all attention is on the field. I don't care if the damn stadium is falling down around you- first one to take their eyes off the ball will find themselves nailed to the bench. _Try me_ if you think I'm kidding. Cornwall can be glad that we're still tied, but I hope you know better than to be happy about it."

'_A tie is like kissing your sister.' _Duke reflexively quoted. He mentally scolded himself for being unable to stop a glance back to the door; still no Sebastian. _'Kissing his sister, though…' _Duke shook his head again, feeling frustrated with his own weakness. Where was _his_ focus? Wasn't it enough that he'd contributed to crippling the team to this point?

Before Duke could really have another thought on the matter, Dinklage then launched into a description of faults from the first half, both their and Cornwall's, while the assistant coach began passing around water bottles and protein bars, but the usual lightheartedness was gone. The team, finally, seemed to be taking its cue from the seniors, who were too angry to make any useful comments. Duke tried to file away the bits and pieces of strategy for the next half, but it was no small struggle.

Relief washed over him when an assistant signaled ten minutes to re-start, and Dinklage ended his lecture to let them relax for the moment.

Andrew swiveled on the bench, turning to face Duke. "This is becoming a big mess, isn't it?"

Duke nodded and leaned back against his locker. Mess didn't really begin to cover it. Toby made a somewhat distracted noise of agreement while scrolling through messages on his cell phone.

"What gives, man?" Andrew called out loudly. "You expect a halftime booty call or something?"

Toby glared in response, stepping frantically in front his locker and blocking _something _from view_._ "Mind your own business."

The non-response only encouraged Andrew, who immediately snatched the phone and used his greater height to advantage. "Hmm…no missed calls. Wonder what is it you're hiding?" Toby jumped in a fruitless attempt to re-take his cell phone, but to no avail. As he shifted, Duke caught a look into his locker and grinned. He didn't understand it, but it could only be from one person.

"What the _hell_ is that? _Please_ tell me you aren't taking up taxidermy." Lighthearted moment aside, the _thing_ in Toby's locker was far creepier than last week's cupcake, and to Duke, that was saying something. Andrew leaned around Toby to take a look, as Duke figured he would, and Toby was able to snatch his phone back. Duke's grinned widened, and Andrew let out a gleeful laugh.

"Oh, oh…_Oh_. Is that…? Oh my God. It _is._" Andrew removed a pile of white, fluffy stuffing from the shelf, and a lump of previously armadillo shaped material followed it. "A headless mascot?"

"It's not headless…entirely." Toby sheepishly pulled the detached head from his duffle bag. "She put this in my locker at the start of the game. With a note that said she's got one too."

"Wow," Duke chuckled. "That's deep."

Toby glared. "Shut up. I'll toss that damn thing later."

It was a waste, Duke thought, even if it were weird as hell. Why shouldn't Toby get the chance to go after the girl he wanted? Eunice might be crazy and more than a little scary, but at least she was honest. "Whatever, man. If that's you're thing, then that's the way it is."

Andrew nodded in agreement, but Toby was spared further comment as Dinklage interrupted.

"This is it, ladies. Everything you want starts right here. Who's going to go get it?"

* * *

"Into the breach once more, huh?" Toby breathed as they approached the field entrance.

Duke found himself grinning, despite the situation. "Just give up, Toby. I don't think you're cut out for Shakespeare."

Toby shrugged, unconcerned. "All I know is, it mentions some dead English guys, right? Doesn't sound so good for Cornwall." With a smile, he bolted down the hallway, leaving Duke to catch up.

_Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;_

_Or close the wall up with our English dead._

…

_Then imitate the action of the tiger;_

_Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,_

_Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage._

The slow, measured entrance of the first half was long gone. Now, for the second half, they ran. They would show no fatigue, no weakness. Cornwall would see that they come to play with no fear, and return with no hesitation.

At least, most of them would return.

Duke would swear the wind was knocked out of him when he eyed Sebastian pleaded with the coach. _'No way. There's no way Dinklage would really let him back in…?' _Toby and Andrew, both already in their positions, gave him equally frantic looks. _'What could he have said the change Dinklage's mind?' _Maybe Sebastian _was_ trying to turn their Coach against them: swear there had been some kind of plot to slander or exclude him.

Regardless, Duke knew they'd be at a huge disadvantage if Sebastian returned to the game. Toby's glare softened slightly into grim determination, and he tilted his head from Sebastian to the field. Andrew nodded almost imperceptibly, and Duke knew they were all thinking the same thing.

"_Maybe we should just ignore it and let him do his thing." _Had been Toby's original suggestion._ "I mean, with all of us out there ready for him, how much damage can he really do? But think about the result: if he does something to try and totally screw up the game, Dinklage will bench him at least. Maybe he'll even get a red card and we won't have to worry about him at all."_

"_You really want to play a man down against Cornwall?"_

Better a man down than be a man down _and _give Cornwall a man extra.

The whistle called them all to action, and Duke was forced to put his mind elsewhere. If the chance to let Sebastian get himself tossed out came up, he'd take it. But until then, he'd be damned if Sebastian gave away anything else.

Yet Toby, apparently smelling blood in the water, deftly tossed Sebastian the first reasonable pass he could manage. Duke gave him a glare but Toby didn't falter, eyeing Sebastian's footwork with fast fading smugness. It was like an entirely different, strikingly _competent_, person had possessed the boy and that made everything so much more confusing. Sebastian evaded two defenders, but was clearly about to be hemmed in by a third when he passed the ball back to Toby, rather than let it be taken.

Not that that wasn't the point, but Duke couldn't help but wonder _what the hell was going on_.

Toby, perhaps also befuddled, returned the pass as Sebastian moved outside the defender about to cut them apart. Duke sprinted to catch up, and managed to receive Sebastian's next pass with enough speed and momentum to boot it straight to the goal. It wasn't anywhere near his best, but Duke felt powerless to resist the gripping fear that passing it down to Sebastian would completely unravel them.

Drayton, mediocre goalkeeper that he was, had to unbalance himself and dive but managed to catch the ball. Ewing, Duke couldn't help but_ think-hope-believe_, would have been ready for that one. "You didn't score on me in the first half," Came the shout from the goal, "You ain't going to score on me in this half, baby!" Duke slowed his run and turned a shoulder slightly to see if Dinklage caught the comment. Did Drayton know something for certain?

"I'm a ninja goalie!" Duke rolled his eyes and tried to tune out further sound from the moron in the net. Drayton was full of shit, but it was up to Duke to prove it. Something was going to have to change, and fast. The humiliation of his rival would be complete this year- not just tears, or some kind of breakdown. This would have to be a crushing blow, delivered in the worst possible way.

* * *

Drayton booted the ball downfield a good distance- though Duke would never admit it- and the Illyrian players scrambled to catch up. Toby still seemed determined to out Sebastian on the pitch, while Andrew was watching for a good opportunity.

Duke felt manic, overcome with the burning desire to protect his team and destroy the enemy. To give everything he had, to be everywhere he needed to be. A detached part of his brain wondered if he weren't, in fact, causing more problems than he was solving.

Still, the game went on for several long moments with no discernable progress for either side. Ewing lived up to expectations by cleanly trapping a showy Cornwall attempt on the goal, but it was rough going to push back to the other end of the field.

Duke, rage ever-building as time ticked on, finally shouldered a Cornwall halfback out of his way and made off with a pass straight downfield. Haimes, recognizing either the mania or the setup, positioned himself to corral two potential defenders as Duke prepared himself for the bicycle kick. _'Eat your heart out, Drayton.'_

The player in question, slow on _so_ many levels, mistimed his jump and never even grazed the ball as it sailed into the net.

'_Score!'_ Duke gave his best smile to Drayton, who was watery-eyed already, and let his teammates practically assault him in their congratulations. Let the celebration come! Cornwall was losing to Illyria, and all was right in the world. All the plots and treachery in the world couldn't deny them this simple truth. Fireworks, there in the middle of the day. Duke turned back to the net, letting his opposition see the celebration head on. _'So much for ninja skills, loser. You've got nothing that can match this.'_ Illyria, never willing to disappoint, piled on the victory dance.

Unfortunately, the dejected Cornwall players milling around behind the dog-pile were not the only ones watching. Dinklage was shouting frantically from the sideline, encouraging the melee even as he lambasted the ref. The scoreboard ticked over from zero to one, and it was official. Illyria was one, and Cornwall was nothing. He blinked once, and as his eyes opened, he was greeting by the referee and a small spot of yellow directly before him.

Yellow card.

A yellow card!

_A damned yellow card!_

Duke listened to Drayton and his ridiculous coach chuckle while he stared stupidly at the small bit of plastic. What in the name of all things holy had possessed him? As if they weren't at a disadvantage enough already! Dinklage might have a method to his madness, but Duke should know to think for himself as well. He managed to pull himself together to trot off to the bench, wincing an apology to Cohen who stood to replace him. Dinklage gave him a nod as he sat.

"Nicely done."

'_But what's the point?' _He was dying to ask, _'Why?' _But Duke knew the coach wasn't going to say anything more. Maybe it was the fact that officials and Cornwall players were within earshot. Or maybe, Duke realized as the game restarted, it was something that Dinklage expected him figure out for himself.

* * *

The next ten minutes seemed interminable. Duke wasn't sure if the total lack of progress by either side made watching better or worse, but it certainly didn't make the time go any faster. Sebastian in particular held his attention, but the boy was definitely bidding his time. He played well, but made no major moves. Was he, like Duke and the rest of the seniors, simply waiting for the right moment to pull out all the stops?

Duke had no way of knowing.

His yellow card restriction ended just as Cornwall tried to break away with the ball, and Duke held his breath as Cohen out maneuvered his man and stole it. The bested Cornwall player nodded over his shoulder and hit the ground, leg outstretched, while a nearby blue shirt came up behind and shouldered Cohen forward over his teammates leg.

Cohen went tumbling down and did not get up. The Illyrian bench, coach, and indeed, entire stadium, _roared_ at the foul. Two more yellow cards flashed out, but Cornwall's coach looked smug as his players headed for the bench.

The official shook his head and took down the names, but the game was still stalled. Cohen had not yet been able to stand, and was grimacing noticeably as the trainer placed a hand on his foot. Assistant Coach Rodriguez jogged out to help him walk off the field with obvious difficulty.

Dinklage nodded to Duke as Cohen and company passed the bench, headed directly for the locker room. "It might be time to get a little rough. Go on."

'_A little rough?'_ Cornwall was practically _begging_ for an asskicking. If Duke felt obsessed before, it was nothing now. Or perhaps it was the same, only now it was echoed by the rest of the team; all equally angry to see one their seniors so flagrantly taken down.

Sebastian, while playing hard, did not seem to share their lust for vengeance. Duke wasn't terribly surprised, and found that reason enough to continue keeping him away from the ball. Toby did not agree.

"Now's the _perfect_ time to let Hastings screw up!" He hissed, as the two positioned themselves for an in-bound toss. "We're all on edge. _No one_ will stand for it."

Duke couldn't do it. He just couldn't let go like that. This current version of Sebastian- the one who played decently and didn't cause problems- _was_ better than losing him a red card, even though Duke knew that could change in a heartbeat. Hadn't he been a walking disaster during the first half, after all?

"Maybe." Duke hedged. "If the right play comes up."

Unfortunately for Duke, the right play _did_ come up seconds later. Sebastian pulled down the in-bound easily near midfield, and wasted little time passing it off to Duke. He circled around two Cornwall players and then waved for the ball back. Duke summarily ignored him.

"Duke!" Sebastian did not get the hint. "Duke, I'm open! Give me the ball!" Toby stood just to Duke's left, making small motions with his hand to indicate this would be a good time to let Sebastian hang himself. Andrew, from behind, nodded agreement. Sebastian continued to shout, but no one except the Cornwall defense seemed to be paying him any attention. The blue shirts were clearly ready to jump on a pass Hasting's way, and Duke didn't want to let a good opportunity go to waste- no matter what the reason.

Toby was obviously going to be no help, he'd kick the ball to Sebastian first thing, and the same for Andrew. Haimes and Allgood were both too far off, unable to get much closer without freeing up more defenders. Duke was going to have to take this one himself.

Yet the moment's indecision rendered the point moot. A Cornwall midfielder swept away with the ball, and Duke cursed as he heard Dinklage stifle some similar profanity. Sebastian took off for the opposite end of the field, but it was too late. Ewing, the fast break taking him by surprise, didn't move in time to stop the shot.

Goal.

'_Dammit, dammit, dammit. What the hell is _wrong_ with me?' _It was one thing to know that Sebastian could screw them over at any moment, but Duke refused to have the team done in by his own stupidity. Why shouldn't he just let Sebastian out himself, and then play without worry?

Toby and Andrew seemed to agree. They wasted no time in surrounding him, angry. "What's the matter with you, man?" Toby barked. "Sebastian was wide open!" Anything he might have tried would have been obvious and would've gotten him benched at least, Duke knew.

"You'd rather lose the goal and let them score?" Andrew added. It burned worse, knowing that it happened _without_ Sebastian being involved.

But, damn it, it was so much easier for them! Neither of them had invested the kind of time, of friendship, that Duke had put in working with Sebastian. He _could_ be an asset, if he just _would_ be. If they could just be _sure _of him, anyway. "Shut up, man."

Irrationally, Duke felt his temper spike toward Sebastian. How dare he put them in such a position? Bad timing, ever Sebastian's strength, struck again. He chose that exact moment to approach Duke.

"Duke," He began, a pleading look on his face, "I know you're mad at me."

'_No shit, Sherlock. Did you deduce that all on your own?'_ "Don't talk to me." He couldn't afford another yellow card right now, and as Sebastian kept blathering on with his excuses Duke realized it wouldn't take much to lose control and throw a punch. Maybe at Sebastian, or maybe at Drayton, who was precariously close. They both probably had it coming. Maybe Malcolm was still around too. Tempting, much more so than it should be. "Get out of my face!"

"Nothing is going on with me and Olivia!" Where the hell was this coming from? Duke struggled to match what Sebastian was thinking, and suddenly realized that in the last conversation they'd had, he'd only really spoken about watching the guy make out with Olivia. Was that all that Sebastian was really concerned about? But his words were coming very quickly now, and had an odd ring of desperation to them. "When the game is over I'll explain everything to you, but for right now you don't have to like me, but I'm you're teammate okay?" It _sounded_ like the reassurance Duke had been so anxious for this morning.

"I _want_ to beat these guys. _I have to beat these guys_." Sebastian might have been a little two-faced at times, but Duke could not doubt his sincerity now. _'Maybe Cornwall turned on him during the half. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe…'_ Really, Duke had considered that Sebastian might not be involved. He'd _wanted_ a better explanation, until the clown theatrics of the first half started. How much of a conversation between Cornwall students could be believed, anyway? How much-

"Ah, fellas!" An obnoxious voice interrupted. "If we're not disturbing you, we have a little soccer game we'd like to finish."

If it had been Toby, or Andrew, or Dinklage, or _anyone besides God-damned Justin Drayton_, Duke probably would have admitted the point and moved on. If he'd witnessed such an event between teammates, his own or otherwise, he'd probably make a similar comment, too.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was the world's biggest jerk who just never learned to keep his mouth shut.

"Get back in the net, man." _'Or stay right here. Start something with me right now. I dare you.'_

"Or what? You gonna hit my fist with your face again?" Duke advanced, and the two were suddenly standing eye to eye. Players from both teams shifted about cautiously, but only resounding silence could be heard as they watched. How like Drayton to pick a fight, unconcerned with who might be affected. Teammates…schools…pretty sisters trying to kiss you…

"You wanna _see_ me do it?"

"Let's go."

He had thrown Just Drayton to the ground before, and the immense satisfaction of the action did not deteriorate the second time around. In fact, without having to worry about Viola standing around, Duke found he was far more willing to inflict damage. Around him, the world spun from silent emptiness to a solid block of noise, but it made no difference. A few others swarmed around them, trying to become involved. To help? To break them up? Duke couldn't tell and didn't care. The only thing in the world that mattered was _breaking Drayton's jaw._ It was _way_ past time to get a little rough. Drayton had it coming.

"Break it up!" Unsurprisingly, Dinklage was the first to make through to the pair of captains. Duke felt himself wrenched away from the battle, and held firm by the coach's fist. He stopped struggling, having some experience with the coach's anger, and tried to quiet his hard breathing. Drayton, help opposite, was far more uneasy in Dinklage's grasp. Small victory. Very small.

"Okay, tough guys. You want to box? You get out of my stadium." Duke heard the warning for what it was: an invitation to get gone and stay gone. It didn't truly matter; the anger that had been propelling him was now dissipating, and shame for having caused such a ruckus began to set in. This would be a red card for sure, and no way would Dinklage let him off with just that much. "Otherwise, get on with the game."

Gold was attempting to calm everyone politely over the megaphone, and Duke was a little stunned to see that the benches of both teams had emptied during the fight. Dinklage, however, did not waste time or breath on niceties. "That goes for the rest of you!" His words were not limited to Illyrian players. "Now let's get on and play some real football. Bunch of girls!"

Dinklage stalked back to the edge of the field, where the officials were deliberating over the whole mess. They moved back two or three steps as they saw him approach, clearly intimidated. Pistonek stood nearby as well, whining loudly about abuse and forfeits. Duke could hear the words _letter of censure _and _community service_ being thrown around, but it didn't seem that they were considering banning them all from playing. Another small victory.

But as he walked back to the bench with the rest of team to make the best of the effective break, something else caught his attention and darkened his already bad mood.

Olivia dashed on field, eyes only for Sebastian. Duke sighed heavily at his own ignorance. How many times could he be proved wrong in one day? Of course Sebastian should have been lying earlier. What did he have to gain by confessing? And it had worked; Duke had been ready to believe him, chalk up everything to circumstance. But this…Sebastian could have no answer for it.

"Why don't you try and tell me again," Duke spat, embittered. "How there's nothing going on between you and Olivia."

"_There is nothing going on between me and Olivia_!" Sebastian was about at the end of his rope. No stories this time, no promises to offer up some excuse later. Maybe he thought if he said it enough times, it would be true. Or at least believable.

Duke thought he might at least appreciate the effort if Olivia said it too, but she didn't seem to in on Sebastian's little play. One more person to have been used. Sebastian wasn't ready to give up just yet, though.

"I didn't lie to you Duke." He took a deep breath, and Duke wasn't exactly sure what to expect. A confession? Another story? "I did, but not about this."

Duke didn't know what to believe anymore. Was Sebastian trying to cheat but not dating Olivia? Strange as it was, that thought hurt more than anything else. Duke was pretty sure he could live with the reverse- Olivia meant little to him just now in the face of maintaining the integrity of the game. Still, it would be worth something to hear him come clean.

"Here's the truth." Sebastian continued. His shoulders slumped in defeat, but he had a tiny smile on his face. Interesting. "I love you."

_I love you._ Everyone around stopped. Everything around stopped. Time itself, it seemed, came to a stop.

"I bed your pardon?" Olivia, ever the debutante, commented with a kind of detached amazement.

Duke was impressed she could speak at all. Really, this kind of drama shouldn't be surprising coming from Sebastian, but if the guy swung for the home team, so be it. He wouldn't be the first or last at Illyria, or even on the team. But in the middle of a major game, in front of God, country, and Cornwall, _was not the place for it!_

"What?" _'What if this is another lie?' _"Alright, what'd you-"_ 'It would explain a lot, but I just can't watch him spin out another amazingly convenient story just now.'_ "That's just a little weird." He finished. _'What a perfect way to take attention off your crazy-ass playing today.'_

It agitated Sebastian. "Alright, you know what? I can't do this anymore." Maybe the boy did have a conscious after all. Could he have finally reached his own limit for deception? "Everybody, I have something to tell you."

By this time, Pistonek had even stopped his bitching, and the Cornwall side was gradually moving in to hear more. Duke shuddered to think what rumors would make it back to their campus after this. Sebastian was due a major asskicking after this. "I'm not Sebastian; I'm Viola."

It just got worse and _worse_, Duke realized. Sebastian- _or whoever the hell he was-_ must think they were all stupid. How in the hell was Duke supposed to believe, even for a second, that Viola was a guy? He really needed to stop this before it wasted even more of their time.

"You're not Viola."

"Yes, I am."

"I know Viola." Duke reminded him, though he knew his irritation wasn't well hidden. Maybe the siblings weren't as close as Duke had been led to believe. Sebastian (_'And it is Sebastian!'_) had never really been around when Duke spent time with Viola, and it was possible that he'd not really been told any information. But Duke himself had detailed making out with Viola at the carnival, so Sebastian really should've realized that Duke would be _very_ well acquainted with some pretty major differences between her and her brother. Could he have forgotten? "I _kissed_ Viola."

"You kissed me." Sebastian's response was almost apologetic. However the hell this ended, the rumors, especially on the Cornwall side, were going to be hell.

If everything up till now had been shocking, then that statement ratcheted the astonishment up another ten notches. Only Justin Drayton showed any movement, practically shaking with glee as the tableau unraveled.

Sebastian's asskicking would have to come second, Duke decided, after Drayton's.

To make a show of disagreement right now would only lead to more trouble. Sebastian had no problem causing a scene- he'd done as much in the pizzeria, and on the field several times- and would certainly pull it off better than Duke. Even given that knowledge, Duke knew his denial was weak. A base part of him couldn't let something like that go, but it was so _tiring _to follow Sebastian's ups and downs. From here on out, the boy would just have to make his own way, and Duke would let the crazy ass stories and lies and whatever else slide like water off a duck's back.

Except for those looks Toby and Andrew were giving him. They'd be in line for asskickings three and four.

Sebastian, however, was oblivious to the group around him. He started soliloquizing about something to do Cornwall- about the soccer team or the coach or the whole school being a bunch of asses- while pulling off huge chunks of hair. Duke stared, but couldn't bring himself to interrupt. With every creeping second, the horrific truth settled more and more deeply over him. This…_person_…was not the Sebastian Hastings he'd began to consider as his best friend. Who would come up with such a thing? What drives a person to such a point?

"…So I could make the team and beat Cornwall." With a sudden flip, Sebastian's hair peeled itself away to reveal…Viola's hair.

And Viola herself. How had _this_ gone overlooked for so long? How had it not been immediately obvious?

She was still talking, explaining away the previous night's events, but Duke found it much less compelling than he would have only minutes ago. It had been Viola right there all along- and she'd never so much as hinted at the truth. Had he come across as untrustworthy or somehow misogynistic?

Her entire face was focused only on him, despite the crowd that continued to grow around them. Her eyes burned deep, wanting to be believed. He _wanted_ to believe her, but…

_I love you._

He didn't know this person at all, and had no idea where to start.

_I love you._

There was no way to tell how much of her was the real thing and how much was Viola-acting-like-Sebastian.

_Suddenly, they connected. Everything else fell away…Blissful ignorance wrapped around a soft, gentle brush against his mouth. He'd expected the waxy, plastic tasting lipstick favored by the girls who hung around parties on the weekends, but she only tasted like funnel cake. Soft and sweet. Real._

_Duke was certain that he could never forget her, whoever she was. _

Whoever she was, whatever might be the truth or a lie on her side, Duke was pretty sure that he'd fallen hard for the girl he knew. But who _was _that? How did one determine who was who, when they were all the same person? How much like her brother was she?

Duke was seized by sudden inspiration, a little devil whispering in his ear. The only thing he really knew about the true Sebastian Hastings was his inability to play soccer and disturbing willingness to expose himself in defense of his gender. Duke couldn't combat the burning desire. This might not be his finest moment, but he was seventeen, damn it! It was practically a law that he _at least_ try… _'If she is anything like her brother…'_

"Just because you wear a wig, it doesn't prove you're a girl." Admittedly lame, as far as such comments went. But it garnered exactly the reaction he was guiltily hoping for.

"Okay, then." Viola smiled, a tiny, cheeky, little grin. She was onto to him, but didn't pause as she stepped forward, out of the line of sight of most of the Cornwall players and smoothly lifted her shirt.

* * *

Once, during a history lesson last year, Duke's class had been forced to watch a ridiculously long and boring documentary about some famous works of art. He found it tedious to believe that visitors could be moved to tears by the mere sight of the Madonna or Mona Lisa. But truly, he simply had not yet found a work beautiful enough, until this moment.

Without really thinking about it, Duke found himself mentally echoing Potentsky's spoken thought: _'Merciful Jesus!'_ It might be the clearest sign he'd ever gotten that God- or at the very least, Viola Hastings- thought very highly of him.

And then the moment of bliss was over, though already committed to memory. "Alright, so everybody understand?"

Well, there was just no way to respond to _that._

Olivia, understandably somewhat less awestruck than the rest of them, once again managed to find her voice first and inquire about the a_ctual _Sebastian Hastings. He appeared immediately, as though he'd been waiting (and Duke realized that it was entirely possible that he had; where had the poor guy been since halftime, after all?) for a cue.

The presence of real-Sebastian didn't bother Duke nearly as much as the side by side comparison with his sister did. _How on earth_ had they not noticed these two very different people were _very different people_!

Before anyone could make further comment, Malcolm appeared and lunged for Gold's megaphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen; I don't want to say I told you so," He began arrogantly, "But I-" The principal, in a surprising display of strength, wrestled the thing away from Malcolm and hauled him off the field.

Good riddance to both of them, as far as Duke was concerned.

Unfortunately, that didn't change any of his most immediate concerns. Viola noticed his confusion, and took the moment of silence to further press her case.

"See, Duke? I _didn't_ betray you. I'm sorry." She tried to smile, but her voice caught and gave away her emotion. She was hurting too, and the idea him even more unhappy. "This isn't how I wanted it to happen and I didn't want to hurt you, but I just wanted to prove that I was good enough. All I'm asking for is a chance."

Her eyes, while still focused on him, tightened at the edges, and her expression winced, then froze. Viola was preparing herself for rejection, and Duke found it incredibly insulting.

Did she know him so little? _He'd_ been the one, after all, that spent countless hours _making_ her good enough. He was not shallow enough to think that another X chromosome and some boobs were going to suddenly make her less talented. If anything, the switch up with her brother had only proven that her male counterpart was far more incapable. He'd been honest and kind to her, both as a girl and a boy. There might be plenty of reasons he didn't want to play with her right now, but _none_ of them hinged on the fact that she was, well, a _she_.

Viola, like Olivia had previously, seemed to group him in with all the worst of his kind. The Justin Draytons of the world would forever come out on top in that regard, they got to be themselves, while everyone else got blamed for it. _'But how could she?' _Despite talking to him, _knowing_ him as well as she should by now, it looked like nothing he could do would ever raise him up in her eyes.

Duke shook his head, suddenly more hopeless than he had been in a long time. Dinklage gave him a questioning face, unable to know the true extent of what Duke was feeling, but willing to leave the decision up to him. He was the captain now, the team mainstay, the field commander. And so he needed to answer, no matter how hard it was. The decision was easy- no decision at all, really- but ignoring his own breathlessness and hurt was considerably more difficult. _Why_ didn't she believe in him?

'_Later! There will be time for that later. Cornwall is waiting!'_

She was more than good enough play, and that much was all he needed to focus on right now.

"Just like what coach says before every game," _'If you'd come clean to us, _to me_, you would have been in there to hear it for yourself.'_ "Be not afraid of greatness." _'What would make you think you couldn't trust me?'_ "Some are born great." _'You didn't need to play me so much.'_ "Some achieve greatness." _'I would have helped you.'_ "And some have greatness thrust upon them." _'And despite everything, it might have been that circumstances forced us on each other at the beginning, but…I don't think I will ever regret getting to know you. Even if you don't feel the same.'_ "I think the best chance for us to be great here today, is to have you play."

A cheer went up, starting from the field and inexplicably moving to the crowd, and Duke was happy, but unsurprised to see the rest of the team seemed to agree with him. They wanted to win, no matter who got them there. The fact that he was adding a hot girl on to the team might have won over a few people too. Who wouldn't rather keep an eye on her instead of another sweaty guy?

"No!" A sudden, whiny, voice broke through the ruckus. "No! No playing. You have to forfeit. There's no girls in this league. Here, look in the manual." Dinklage pivoted to face the other coach and the official, but otherwise his face gave nothing away as Pistonek pulled out the referee's rule book. Dinklage didn't fall for it. The Laws of the Game didn't cover gender of players, and it would help either team equally on that point.

Admittedly, it was true there were no girls in the league, as far as Duke knew. But that didn't mean there _couldn't_ be girls in the league, right?

Something nagged at him. A thought, an image. Dinklage's desk, a piece of paper with note in his handwriting.

'_CIAC Rules of Eligibility and Control…Section F… Girls may participate on… program in that sport… may enter either the boys or the girls tournament, but not both.'_

Duke'd read the words in an attempt to distract himself, and thinking of it now, he immediately placed the section in its proper context, pulling out the only one that mattered: _Girls may participate on boy's teams._

Dinklage knew.

The thought had come to Duke unbidden, and once thought of, it made him shudder. Not only had Viola found it necessary to keep this from him, but his coach seemed to agree with her.

Dinklage, meanwhile, seemed to prefer the old 'actions speak loudly than words' maxim. Tattered halves of the rule books were crumbled in his hands. "What manual?" Duke couldn't hide the grin, despite the situation. _'Time to get a little rough, alright.'_

"Here in Illyria," Jab. "We…" Jab. "Don't discriminate." Jab, jab. "Based on gender!" Jab, jab, jab.

Pistonek and Dinklage exchanged words quietly for a moment, but then Pistonek took a step back, chuckling. "You really think you can beat us with a girl on your team?"

Behind him, the Cornwall players began to chuckle. Drayton, using his coach as a shield, leaned forward and tried to add a mocking comment. "This should be fun!"

It would be fun, Duke silently agreed. It would be extremely gratifying to see Drayton get schooled by a girl, let alone _his ex girlfriend_.

It would be _really_ fun.

"Okay, team. Let's go, kick, _kill!_"

* * *

Perhaps it was all the adrenaline, looking for an outlet. Maybe it was a heretofore unrealized sense of freedom that came with knowing all their teammates were now trustworthy – at least where the game was concerned.

Either way, with only a few minutes left before they went to a shootout, Illyria turned it _on_. The careful plays and stingy movements of earlier were gone, instead the entire team brought out its arsenal. Viola, especially, now playing without extra layers and a wig, seemed to improve exponentially.

As Illyria got strong and stronger, Cornwall seemed to be getting more desperate. Trying to save an errant pass, a Cornwall halfback knocked the ball out of bounds, and Duke stepped up to inbound it. This time, he sought out Viola near midfield, where Cornwall didn't seem to think it necessary to defend her.

Their mistake.

Viola ripped straight up field, the goal dead in front of her. Ten yards from the box, a Cornwall defender gave up on stealing and blatantly kicked at her ankle. Viola went flying face-first onto the grass, and the red card came out immediately. The offending Cornwall played complain loudly, imitating his coach, Duke supposed, and his teammates came up behind him for support.

This was a little to close for comfort to Viola, and Duke found it satisfying to note that Toby, Andrew, and Grillo immediately joined him in corralling the Cornwall side off from her. All drama aside, his team was ready to defend each other, and that was as it should be.

The Cornwall coaching staff was still complaining about the red card, and in response to their efforts the official further awarded Viola a penalty kick. This made Duke a little nervous, though he struggled not to show it. Viola-as-Sebastian had been competent enough at it, but tended to lack the gut-crunching power that most applied to a PK. Not to mention, Drayton had undoubtedly seen her kick before.

Perhaps Duke's earlier punch _had_ loosened the boy in questions jaw, because even as Viola lined up her kick, he wouldn't shut up. Did he never learn? Under any other circumstances, Duke would have ignored the idiot, handing him enough rope to hang himself in the process. But it was impossible to tell if his blathering on would affect Viola. She stared him down in the net, and let a foot fly.

For a brief, beautiful, second, it looked good. But the arc was just a little too deep, and the shot was deflected back to the field.

For a brief, horrible, second, Duke was certain that Cornwall would recover it.

But was he or was he not the captain? It came down to him to give all he had. With heroic effort, Duke leaped upwards, trying to undercut a Cornwall defender. His jump wasn't perfect, but it was quick, and he reached the ball first with just enough time for a header back toward Viola.

Several things all seemed to happen at once, just then.

She also went airborne to reach it first, and Duke thanked every deity in existence that they'd practice volleys so much. Her second shot on the goal came in at a much better angle. Drayton tried to go up for it, but missed the ball by inches. The buzzer for end of regulation sounded, and he landed and crumbled to the ground, tears already forming. Duke, in a sick kind of way, envied his ability to break down out here.

They had won the game, and Duke took pride in it, but the victory dogpile felt a little empty. Viola had gotten what she wanted, and now would surely be on her way back to Cornwall, point proven. Even now, he noticed, she was already being surrounded by blue-bedecked fans.

It seemed that his role in her little drama was now over.

* * *

Ahhh! Poor Duke. Rest assured that he'll turn things around very soon. We're down to the final part, where Duke reckons with just about _everyone_.

Notes:

'Hand of God' goal- The quote at the very beginning of this chapter refers to a famous goal scored by Diego Maradona in the 1986 FIFA World Cup tournament. It's rather controversial, as he illegally used a hand to knock the ball into the net, but was never penalized and the goal stood. He gave this quote in response to questions on it afterward, initially claiming he scored with legal contact from his head. I find the statement amusing and relevant, but I just wanted to be clear that the situation of _that_ goal and the one in the movie isn't intended to be the same. I don't usually comment on the quotes I pick for chapter lead offs (I guess I always hope their relevance is self explanatory by the end of that part) but I don't want anyone familiar with the situation to think I'm trying to imply in any way that Illyria's goal here should be considered controversial. The movie makes it very clear that Duke did not use a hand, his own or otherwise;-)

Mark Antony/ 'He was my friend'… -Our Shakespearean tour continues;-) For those who don't recognize it, these lines are from Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar_, Act III, Scene 2. Specifically, it's from Mark Antony's _very _famous soliloquy at Caesar's funeral, wherein he turns the sentiment of the Roman public against Brutus just moments after Brutus has made a speech that caused the same crowd to celebrate Caesar's death.

'A tie is like kissing your sister.' – This had been attributed to many people over the years, but is usually thought to have been said (or at least, popularized by) Michigan State coach Duffy Daugherty. It has also been credited to Bear Bryant and Eddie Erdelatz, among others.

Once more…- This line is part of a speech from Act III of Shakespeare's _Henry V._ Toby is flexing his geography skills here, knowing as he does that Cornwall is also city. Isn't he clever? ;-)

Duke's Yellow card- In 2006, FIFA had a rule explicitly warning against pulling one's jersey over the head. While I couldn't find that exact phrasing for high-school play, they do have some sportsmanship regulations and it seems like that would certainly be a violation. I can't imagine that Duke wouldn't know this. Also, as mentioned previously, yellow carded players must be benched for ten minutes, though they can be replaced on the field by a teammate.


	10. Invite You

Egad! Two years is beyond excusing, so I won't even try. Read on and enjoy- more notes at the end!

Play On

Chapter 10

_Truth is tough. It will not break, like a bubble, at a touch; nay, you may kick it about all day, like a football, and it will be round and full at evening._

Mark Twain

Aim is a funny thing. It requires bearing, focus, intent. A convoluted mix of faith and effort and skill and knowledge. It had been one of his first pieces of advice to Sebastian-who-is-was-Viola: _"Don't settle for just trying to hit; it needs to go where you're aiming."_

Yet having aim does not mean that you have a goal. His literature teacher would go on a tear if confronted with such a statement, but Duke knew it to be true. _Any_ athlete knows this simple truth: just because you aim for the goal doesn't mean you score. And sometimes, you reach the goal even if you _weren't_ aiming for it correctly. There are other bodies in play, other forces that can change your course.

Somehow he'd been trying, but not aiming right. Missed the goal. Something had come in and knocked him off track, and it didn't take a genius to figure out what it was.

_I hold him but a __fool__ that will endanger  
His body for a girl that __loves__ him not_

_Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act V Scene 4_

* * *

Seba-_ Viola_ did not return to the locker room after the game and Duke could honestly say that he was neither surprised nor sorry. His own stop there was admittedly selfish. While his teammates filled the air with smug laughter and party plans, Duke didn't bother to change. He stood over the bench, arms folded as he learned back against his locker, motionless. He had no desire to celebrate and nothing to say. Not to his teammates, anyway.

Dinklage met his eyes as he approached the door, equally cross-armed and grim-faced. It was an imposing sight that had sat Duke down more than once, yet it failed to stir anything in him now. He stood his ground.

Dinklage had known the truth.

Duke had not.

There was nothing that could make that wound any better. Hadn't Duke given enough? Didn't he deserve some warning? _Why hadn't Dinklage trusted him? _

"_You're the captain; you should know what's going on with the personnel." _Dinklage had told him. Duke had taken it seriously- as a statement of trust- but clearly the coach had no problem cutting him out after all. Maybe what Duke had thought to be confirmation of trust had instead been an indictment.

He _should_ have known. Bits and pieces of memories assailed him: strange bits of voice, a box of tampons, broken parts of a document on his mentor's desk…

_Section F…_ _Girls may participate on… I love you. __Girls may participate on boys teams…I love you._ The damning mental litany simply wouldn't stop.

On a strictly professional level, whether or not Dinklage thought he should have been able to figure things out himself, keeping this sort of thing a secret could have harmed the team in a major way. They were extremely lucky today. _'It's natural to be defensive of my teammates.'_

But the justification was shallow, at best. Duke had thought- more than thought, but _hoped_- that Dinklage had come to like him beyond just his position. That there was some kind of respect for the person he was capable of becoming, and a willingness to help him find that on and off the field. That he was someone that Dinklage might find worthy.

Hell, the man was the most consistent, closest thing Duke had to a father. He wanted to have that _so much_.

But the team comes first.

So it was going to end badly, Duke admitted. No good could come of it today, with the moment too raw, emotional precipices too steep. It might kill him to be told that he'd placed himself in higher esteem than he should have, and that his coach had dozens of others to look out for besides himself. These were reasonable, true things.

Yet, he couldn't make himself wait either. More excruciating than anything else was the idea that Dinklage might put him off nicely, to spare his feelings, and in a weaker moment than this Duke might allow it. For better or for worse, Duke at least wanted to prove that he could force the issue himself.

Viola had outright lied to him. Dinklage had avoided the truth. He deserved honesty from _someone_, and he'd take it by force if need be.

Duke shook his head at Dinklage and tried to shoulder past him, into the office for at least a modicum of privacy, only to be stopped by a firm grasp on his shoulder. The gesture- normally comforting- was like placing a cap on a volcano, only serving to make the inevitable explosion more volatile. Duke twisted himself away from it without thought.

The coach's eyes tightened for less than a second; a wince on a lesser man. Duke hated himself for letting it sting. Being angry was his _right_, dammit!

"Her reasons were her own. You should-"

Duke stepped further away before Dinklage could attribute his shaking muscles to nerves or embarrassment rather than anger. His face must have said what the rest of him could not: he had no interest in what he _should_ have done, said, or noticed. The coach fell silent as the young captain turned away and could only shake his head in response.

The pair stepped in the office, Dinklage obviously resigned to the fact that the argument would not be avoided. The locker room quieted to the low murmurs of a dozen teenage boys trying to pretend they didn't exist. Duke closed the office door too swiftly, too loudly, to mask his intent. He spun quickly back towards his coach, feeling the ring against his chest lift under his shirt and thud back heavily with the movement.

Silence. Duke breathed in once, twice, and then…

"Are you _kidding_ me? You expect me to listen to you _now_? You've been pushing for this to happen from day one! All the little comments and suggestions. You wanted me to feel like I was failing you all along. You wanted her to lie to me. _You did this_!"

Dinklage took another step backward, and the hand that had reached for Duke's shoulder collapsed into a fist at his side. His face was lacking its usual scowl, and the complete lack of emotion was more irritating to Duke than any comeback. '_Doesn't he care at all?'_

Duke paced recklessly, _aimlessly_, through the small office as he continued. "I'm so sorry." He practically snarled. "I guess I didn't learn whatever lesson you've been trying to get through to me after all." He thought he'd done it, after their meeting this morning. He'd thought the realization that he was there to fight for his team, no matter the odds or the failures that came before, was what his coach wanted from him. Not even close, apparently. "Did you think I wouldn't help her if I knew she was a girl? Did you think I _couldn't_ do it?"

"No. I never thought that. Not once." Dinklage's voice reminded Duke of some of their previous meetings: quiet, but angry.

Duke paused, both proud and pained at the admission. "But you still set me up. You let me believe that Se-_Viola_ was…not…what she really was."

"I thought you already knew. You've been keeping an eye out since the start of the year; when you started helping her I thought it was because she'd told you. When you came in this morning _you knew_ something was wrong."

"I thought he- she- whatever, was cheating!" There were both shouting now.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Duke, you were _living_ with her!"

As he had no response to that, Duke walked out.

Andrew and Toby were both frozen mid rock-paper-scissor match as the door opened, thankfully sparing a "winner" the need to knock on it. Donner was staring at the floor, unmoving. Allgood was repeatedly tying and untying a cleat, while several others busied themselves in similar pursuits. No one had left.

They were a great soccer team. Great friends.

Actors, not so much.

Duke said nothing as he picked up his duffle and began his normal packing up routine. He was numb enough to find some dark humor in the effect this most common behavior had on the rest of the room. He'd half expected Dinklage to follow him out, but the coach did not appear from behind the door.

"So, umm…Are you two like, breaking up?" Andrew's forehead wrinkled with disbelief as he spoke. He'd rarely ever seen Duke shout, and _no one_ had ever raised a voice to Dinklage and lived to tell the tale.

Duke shook his head, a gesture born of frustration rather than any kind of denial. _Was_ he 'breaking up'?

"Ah! Hidey ho, gentlemen! We are all men, I hope, yes? Not that, there's anything _wrong_ with not being a man. In fact, it can be quite natural to wonder…"

"Can we _help_ you, Headmaster?" Duke cut him off rudely. He was not in the mood to deal with the man right now and far too unhappy to bother hiding it. If Gold chucked him out of the school right now, he was pretty sure he wouldn't really care. Andrew, still standing next to him, chuckled inexplicably.

"I just thought I should spend a few moments calming the waters, so to speak. We had quite a ruckus today."

'_That you caused!' _Duke knew the accusation was unfair. He'd thrown the first punch himself, but it still felt good to think it.

"Now, Coach Dinklage and I finished a very pleasant conversation with some of the finest officials in your league, and you'll be happy to note that you have _not_, as of yet, been disbanded or barred from post-season play."

The relief surprised him with its intensity, but it didn't last long. Donner and a few others, not being well-versed enough in the league rules to know any better, still looked confused, but most of the team felt the weight come off. Duke felt the guilt burn hotly in his stomach. He'd started the fight that could have ended their entire season. He hadn't been the only one, true, but he'd always known that when the shit hit the fan, his boys would back him up. It should have been up to him to set the example. _The team comes first._

Well, from now on, he would do just that. After all, if he couldn't count on Dinklage to look after the team, then it was up to him.

"Thank you, Headmaster." Sincerity breathed through each word, and his teammates looked surprised at the change from Duke's previous stormy disposition. There were audible murmurs from around the room to similar effect.

"_However_," The normally chipper Headmaster suddenly took on a serious tone, and for the first time Duke understood how he might have become the school's leader. "Each of you will be responsible for an additional thirty-two hours of community service before the end of the semester, _and_ will be writing letters of apology to the league and to Cornwall."

Punishment delivered, the Headmaster seemed to pick up his more common sunny attitude. "Aside from all that unpleasantness, I'm also required to offer you the services of our esteemed school counselor, should anyone feel the need to deal with anger and-or gender related issues at the current time or near future." The man turned to leave, then paused at the door.

"Oh, Mr. Belch," Toby jumped, dropping his mutilated armadillo in the process. "Please see me before class on Tuesday, that we may discuss yours and Mrs. Bates's post game…_activities_ on the field."

"But…but- sir!" Toby argued to no avail, as the Headmaster paid him no mind and walked out the door. "Andrew- he…_with two cheerleaders!_" Andrew hooted in laughter again and threw his socks in Toby's direction.

"Ha! That's what you get for trying to drag me down with you. And _you,_" he was still cackling as he rounded on Duke, "what're you, channeling Dinklage for fun now?"

Off Duke's confused face, he continued. "Aw c'mon, you sound _just_ like him when Gold came in. It was _freaky. _Do it again!"

* * *

"I'm sorry you guys suck so bad. We should have limited ourselves to only proving you suck at soccer, and not also at life, because you will never beat us unless you start cheating even more than you do now. Please feel free to come back and get spanked again whenever you like." Toby recited Andrew's hastily scrawled napkin-letter aloud, drawing humorous looks from a nearby table. "Yeah, that's probably not gonna cut it."

Andrew shrugged. "Gold can't really expect us to say anything _too_ nice, right?"

"I'm not sure that anything is 'too nice' for Gold." Allgood paused for the setup. "Except maybe Toby and Eunice getting' it on at midfield." Several seconds of pepperoni flinging ensued.

The traditional home-victory party at Cesario's had lost some of its usual liveliness in the all the ruckus surrounding their game, but a win is a win is a win, and one over Cornwall should never be ignored. Duke found himself relaxing inch by inch. The group was far too large for his preferred booth, so they had instead taken up residence in the middle of the restaurant, re-arranging a number of chairs and tables for maximum enjoyment. Despite his problems, he was actually having fun. Thank God for good friends.

"Whatever, man." Toby grinned mischievously. "I gotta take my chances where I can get 'em. I'm not the one who's been _roomating_ _with a lady_ since day one." He elbowed Duke in the chair next to him, and was immediately kicked in return.

"Don't even start, Toby. I mean it." Duke warned. _I love you._ It hurt, like an actual blow, to think of it. The tension that had gradually been lessening sprung back, but he wasn't about to spoil the fun for everyone else by moping, even if it meant he could barely breathe. "What the hell am I supposed to do with her now? Do you think she's like... still there?"

The large group traded lewd remarks mixed with uncertainty all around.

Haimes spoke up as the conversation quieted. "Is she staying? I mean, if she's, y'know, a real _girl_ student. She'll have to move, I guess. But since the real Sebastian's here…What happens now?"

Duke took a long drink from his bottle of water. He was still angry at her for lying and messing with his head so much. At the moment, he really felt like he'd prefer never to see her again. But Cohen had re-injured his ankle during the melee and he couldn't ignore the fact that the team needed her. _'The team comes first.'_ "I guess we need to find out if she's staying. And we can't lose focus. We've got an away against Bunnell in a couple weeks." _'What happens now? Do I talk to her? Is she..? Are we…?'_

_I love you._

After everything that had happened this morning, would Viola even _want_ to stay? How much could trust about the things she'd said? Had she ever even _liked_ Illyria?

Finally, Andrew spoke again. "C'mon guys! This is ridiculous. We've got a great win under our belt, and a long weekend to celebrate it. Let's at least _try_ to enjoy ourselves before real life goes kablooey again, yeah?"

Cheerful agreement sounded out, ending in a solitary clap from near the main entrance.

"Well said. Personally, I think it was due to the amazing pep provided by the cheerleading squad." A voice came from the same area. A dozen heads all turned to look.

"Val!"

Valentine, followed closely by Jessica, Yuri, and a dozen or so members of the varsity squad, jogged over to the table. She ungracefully shoved Leslie out of his seat and slid into his place, while propping two feet up on Toby's lap.

"Sooo…interesting game we had this morning."

"You were watching all that, huh?" Duke didn't wince, but he wanted to. Val didn't really appreciate the finer points of the game, and usually focused on the crowd, not the field.

"Miss a second of the home opener against Cornwall? You must be kidding. Pretty good show for a first game."

She was entirely too conversational. Duke _knew_ something was up. It only took a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow to prod further. Val couldn't keep a secret and everyone knew it.

"Okay! Fine. Consider me busted. Dink called me down to his office an hour or so ago," Haimes choked on his soda. "He said he thought that he could benefit from my..._point of view_. I guess it must have been my being a girl or something. I thought he was honestly going crazy for a bit there, what with all the pants dropping and stuff earlier. I mean, y'all haven't had a girl on the team since Sam Toures graduated, right? Well, I suppose that's all out in the open now anyway."

"Waitwaitwait. _Dink_?" Haimes had trouble getting the words out over his laughter, but Bentley gave him a faux-serious look.

"Don't even try it. He'll full-body tackle you without hesitation. The girls are the only ones who can get away with it. _Some_times. _Believe me_, I've tried."

Val grinned. "True. But not the point. I was apparently supposed to come and help deal with the _girl_ in your midst."

Toby nodded. "Well, we don't know if we're…ah, _keeping_ her, so to speak."

"Really? All that drama today aside, is she not any good?" Val wasn't really interested in detailed player analyses by any means, but she was competent enough to get an honest answer.

Every head in the group turned to Duke, who couldn't stop a half smile from appearing on his face. Viola's soccer skill was something he could take at least a little pride in. "Yeah, she's good. But we don't know if she wants to stay."

"Guess you're gonna have to decide if you want to convince her, then. If you want, I can show her where the ladies' lockers rooms are. Unless, y'know, you guys prefer sharing. That's cool too, if that's what you're into. Tell me, did she get a good look?"

"_Valentine_!" Val just continued laughing and took a bite of Leslie's pizza with a smile.

"You look good, Duke. Leadership agrees with you." Val added sincerely. "This is gonna be a good year for you guys. For all of us." She gestured to the rest of her squad, who'd wasted no time in added themselves to the celebration.

Duke smiled. Val was always positive, even though she had no idea what she was talking about. "The year just started, Val."

"See that, right there? _Totally_ the reason that you and I could never get married. You are _way_ too negative." She winked at him, and Duke coughed into his soda.

Andrew fake-pouted. "You're flirting with him right in front of me, Val? What about our epic love?"

"Oh please," She learned forward with stage whisper, as though confiding to the rest of the table, even as she scooted her chair closer to Andrew. "I only ever kissed him once, don't let him fool you." Then louder, "And even then it was 'cause I felt sorry for you."

"Please," Andrew scoffed. "_I _felt sorry for _you._ We'd just lost 1-4 in our final game that year."

"Oh, believe me, I remember. How was that _my _problem?"

"'Cause we were pissed off. _You _had to keep smiling and be encouraging. I was so embarrassed for you!" Everyone within earshot laughed.

"Okay, maybe I was feeling sorry for myself too. More games for you means more games for us." Val conceded with her own giggle. "But we'd just gotten our butts kicked in the playoffs while our leading scorer had to be _literally_ dragged off the field to go to the hospital with his ribs kicked in. I went a little crazy."

* * *

Duke approached his door late that afternoon with a plan. He would talk to Viola; he would ask her to stay on the team. He would find some way to work it out.

As for the personal stuff, he planned to avoid all of that until he knew what the hell to say. It was a good plan, though it fizzled as he unlocked the door. Where his tiny, tidy former roommate had once camped now lounged a tall dark head of hair. The guy from earlier today that Duke now knew to be the _real_ Sebastian Hastings. For a moment, it was the first day all over again.

_The door wrenched open behind him and a small figure fell against it, breathing heavily. '__What the hell is this?'__ The guy was wearing full school uniform, a policy that was 'recommended' by administration for today and only followed by freshmen and geeks. The guy made several attempts at a greeting while Duke tried to determine exactly what the hell he was doing here. '__Please, please, please don't tell me that this is…'_

"Hey, you must be my roommate." Sebastian stood, pulled off his ear buds, and easily stuck out his hand as Duke entered. "Nice to, uh, meet you. I'm Sebastian Hastings."

"Duke Orsino. I guess you're like, Viola's brother, right?" It was very, very, strange, to know and not know this person at the same time.

"Yeah, sorry about all that stuff that happened. I had no idea, really. I just arrived last night, and then all these people were saying-"

"It's cool." Duke said, even though it wasn't. It still wasn't Sebastian's fault. Not _this_ Sebastian, anyhow. And whatever the case, he _was_ still Viola's brother and Duke wasn't really sure what to make of that. Best to move on.

"Cool." The Sebastian in question agreed, then nodded to a post-it note in Duke's handwriting still stuck haphazardly to one of the desks. "I guess this was all 'cause Viola didn't update you on when I told her I coming back, huh? What a mess."

"Huh?" It took Duke a moment to remember why the note was even there. "Oh, yeah. That." _'Viola calling about "Sebastian's friend" Christ, was that only a week ago? Feels like forever._' That night had been the first time he'd ever spoken to her. Well, at least he'd thought so at the time, anyway.

Without being able to explain why, Duke yanked the square of paper off Sebastian's desk and tossed it onto his own. He glanced at his new roommate to check if he'd be forced to elaborate on his inability to throw the tiny memento away, but Sebastian had already jumped back onto his bed; his earphones were in place and head moving in time to whatever was playing. Duke heaved himself on his own bed, full of disbelief. Two weeks ago, he'd have done a lot to have a roommate who kept to himself, instead of constantly prattling. He was _happy_ to have the quiet, damn it!

He was, really.

'_I love you.'_

Really.

Still, given that he did have a mission to accomplish, it would be just ridiculous to lie around silently and not get some helpful information.

"Hey, man." Sebastian didn't move inch except to mouth the words of what must be a particularly enthralling solo. Duke stood up, nearly tripping over the strewn clothing from Sebastian's overflowing laundry bag.

Come to think of it, Duke had never ever _seen_ Viola's laundry. Well, he was no neat freak, either. He could adapt pretty easily to that little change. He continued to his roommate's bed, and gave him a light shove on the shoulder.

"Sebastian!" The boy jumped, and then looked around as he pulled off his headphones once again. _'He really is a lot like Viola.'_

"What's up?"

"Tell me where your sister is." Not a question.

"Like, right now?" Sebastian looked intimidated. Duke sighed.

"No, I mean yesterday. _Yes, right now_!"

"Uh, I don't really know. Her friends were taking her out for lunch earlier. After that I think she was gonna, you know, go home. Cornwall starts back on Tuesday and she's got a lot of stuff to do between now and then."

'_Shit, shit, shit._' So she _was_ leaving.

What could he do to stop it?

* * *

Sundays were usually a blessed respite once the season had begun. No game, no practice, and a long, lovely break from doing anything.

That was not the case this week.

In response to the fight in the game yesterday, and the fact that Dinklage was convinced that two days off in a row would make them fat and lazy, he canceled Monday's team meeting in favor of a grueling practice Sunday afternoon. Duke managed to follow directions without making any direct statements to the Coach, and Dinklage seemed content to do the same. Dinklage didn't make any comments about the whole affair at all except to remind them they would all regret starting a fight in his stadium and Duke had no doubt that would be true.

Maybe it was just the bad aftertaste of yesterday's dramatics, but practice seemed especially bleak without Viola there. He'd taken a lot of pride in her accomplishments in practice too, knowing he'd helped, and that had taken a lot of string from the more punishing tasks. But it was more than that too, he began to notice. No one was there to start dancing after a particularly good drill. No one was there to fall on the grass after sprints, dramatically proclaiming their death.

No number 13 at all.

It wasn't a matter of Sebastian or Viola, a missing guy or girl. It was that they had had a teammate who did those things, and now they didn't. They should have, though, and Duke wanted that back. It wasn't right that Viola had made them become so close to a person who never existed and that she should be able to walk away so easily.

The locker room was full of chatter to that effect after practice. Everyone was asking who had heard what, if anyone had spoken to Gold or Dinklage or even Viola on the matter. Duke was unhappy to contribute what he knew to the situation.

"Her brother told me that she's going to back Cornwall." Disappointed groans followed. Duke glances around. That probably meant that Sanger or Shuler would play in her place until Cohen was back, and honestly, both were a drop talent-wise. Maybe if they swapped Haimes into the middle, and Feldman back in on the left…?

Andrew sighed and gave Duke a put-out look. Duke knew something unpleasant was coming. "Look man, can't you talk to her? I mean, I get that she's crazy and sucks and screwed you over. But there have been plenty of people on the team that bug the shit out of me. Hell, she's _one of them_. But…couldn't she just come and play?"

Toby agreed. "I bet she could still enroll. Eunice doesn't have a roommate, so I know there's at least one vacancy on the girls side."

Duke sighed. "She came here for the Cornwall game, and now that's over, I don't know if she really ever thought about after."

_"So, the game against Cornwall, that should be interesting huh?"_

_"I'll tell you what. You do this, I'll work with you on your soccer. I'll make you good enough to make first string."  
"By the Cornwall game?"  
"Abso__lute__ly."_

"_I __want__ to beat these guys_. _I _have_ to beat these guys_."

But still, there had been one moment…

_"… As much as I want to kick Cornwall's ass, I'm also proud of how much I've learned here and now I really just want the team to win. And I think I'll do everything I can to stick around long enough to make first string for real at some point this year."  
"What, were you planning on getting kicked out of Illyria too?"  
"Not anymore."_

"But you'll try?"

Another sigh. Talking to Viola was dead last on his list of things he wanted to do. But Andrew was right; there was a solid line between teammate and…anything else. If it was best for the team, and Duke couldn't argue the fact that it definitely was, he'd do it. He'd do just about anything to keep them happy.

"Yeah. I'll try."

Duke waited until he was a good distance from the stadium before ducking behind Windsor Hall and around the long row of hedge. He'd realized some ugly things about himself in the past day or so and he did not want _anyone_ to witness his rather desperate phone call.

One ring.

Two rings. Three. Shit. How would he explain himself if he got voicemail?

The fourth ring didn't even start before a confused voice answered. Thank God.

"Hey. Um…Can you meet me? It's important." Duke hated how he sounded. Pathetic.  
"Sure. Tonight?"  
"Yeah." Duke forced out the word. "Please."  
"You got it. Name the time and place."  
"Cool. Um…I'll meet you at the campus gate?"  
"Uh, maybe we should make it some other place."

Duke closed his eyes. Yeah, that probably made sense. "Are you back at home? I can come to your house."  
"You don't really want to do that. It's like a wrecking ball made of frilly dresses came through around here. If you show up, we'll both get sucked in. How about I come to yours, instead?"

Duke swallowed. Was that a good idea? "I-" Another, smaller hand had snagged his phone. Duke looked up in surprise. How had she snuck up on him?

"He'll have to call you back, hon." Valentine hit his cell phone, ending the call. She smiled, though her eyes were tight. "I know what you were doing."

The accusation bristled. "So?"

"You and I need to talk."

* * *

"You know," Val commented, now happily licking an ice cream cone, "I never really understood this about you: Why is it that you give everybody else so much credit and not yourself?"

Duke handed some cash to the vendor, and then took his own cone. "What?"

"I don't know. It's like… you always think that other people know more than you do. Right now, for instance. You're bribing me with ice cream so I'll give you some magically inspiring words that will convince your girl to come back to Illyria. But _I_ don't know what she's going to find convincing." Duke sighed slightly, remembering his own similar thoughts on his first address to the team as captain. He wondered if Val ever worried about falling short as a leader, too.

"Man, you're useless." He teased. "I can't believe the pep squad is stuck with you." Val elbowed him and he indulged her by swaying a step to the side. Then, he continued. "What convinced _you_ to come to Illyria?"

"The super-hot freshman soccer player they'd just recruited away from FCDS." This time it was Duke who shouldered her. "Alright, alright. For real? My parents moved overseas just before ninth grade, so my choices were Nigeria or boarding school. My grandparents live in Stamford, so I looked at Illyria, Ethel Walker, and Hotchkiss. I liked that there were boys here, for one thing. I liked my coach; I liked the campus. I liked that everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun and I liked that there were so many different people and different things to do. I even liked Dinklage."

"Dinklage was pro in your book?" Duke couldn't help but be surprised.

Val grinned, "Yeah. He was honest with me, and I appreciated that. I asked once what would happen if I went out for the team, the first thing he told me was 'If you try out and then start to slack off, I'll kill you.'"

Duke laughed. "So, honesty, huh?"

"Yeah. And give yourself some credit, Duke. None of us actually knows everything. Not even your coach, or your friends, or your even girl. You're always so sure there's a right answer, and there's not." Val added, eyes searching him thoughtfully.

"I feel like I never know what to say when it's important though. I sound like an idiot." Duke confessed.

"Only because you worry about other people too much. You're that person to everyone else, Duke. It's not just the pretty face, you know? You're so _good_ at everything. It's intimidating to a lot of people. During our English class freshman year, you never spoke to me, so I was afraid to start a conversation because didn't know _I _could possibly say to _you_. Even though we were both new students, you were _so_ good at soccer, and school, having friends, and I didn't want to ask you to help me because I thought you'd laugh at the idea. If you had even a fraction of the confidence that everyone else around here has in you…You have no idea how crazy-jealous I am that this girl got that from you and she doesn't even care." Val shook her head, slowly.

"It's not like that…Viola…Viola's…" Duke paused. What _should _he say to her about Viola? "You and I got to be friends eventually anyway, didn't we?"

"See?" Val said pointedly, now moving to stand directly in front of him. "You're doing it again, _right now_! What _is_ it like? _What's_ the truth, Duke? Just tell me what the hell you want to tell me, and not what you think I want to hear!"

Duke stared. Is _that_ really what he'd been thinking for so long? Trying to give everyone what they wanted, instead of the truth?

_"I just always say the wrong thing." _

Jumping through hoops trying to guess what Dinklage needed from him, trying to impress Olivia, telling his friends he didn't care about Viola…every instance he'd ever worried over what to say, and how. He'd already realized that his job on team meant that he could wade through failure to find success. Hadn't he done that with Viola already?

_It wasn't having all the answers, being perfect from the start. It wasn't in expecting no failure, accepting no problems. _

_It was in knowing all those things, and still believing. _

Perhaps who he was as a soccer player and as a person were not so far apart.

So, what w_as_ the truth?

"I'm pissed off, okay? She _lied_ to me, and _used_ me. She set up Olivia with _her brother_. I put in hours of extra work for her, and she _never_ even thanked me. She made me feel like I was important, _she told me she loved me, _and then she just walked away like it was _nothing_. What kind of person does that? And I have no right to feel that way because I've been lying to her too." Duke released a breath after he finished. _'Wow.'_

"See how easy that is? I don't think you're an idiot. I think you're a guy who's very determined to do his best. And can I just say? Like, _wow_, you're good looking when you're angry. Would it make you feel better to make out for a little bit?"

Duke took a bite of ice cream to hide his laugh, but Val caught it. "See?" She repeated, "I said what was on my mind, and you totally liked it."

"So where'd all this confidence come from," Duke wanted to change the topic before he started blushing, "If you were so scared before?"

Val shrugged. "You remember that game I was talking about earlier today? In sophomore year?" Duke put a hand to his ribs, as though the memory would bring back the feeling. It had _really_ hurt.

"Like I could forget. We were doing well and then I…"

"Had two ribs broken by a cheap shot." Val finished. "You _still_ made the PK and put up a ridiculous fight against being pulled out even though you could barely stand afterwards. I don't think I've ever seen Dinklage so angry."

"What your point, Val?" The trip down memory lane was making his patience suffer.

"_You_ were the one who made me realize: if there's really something you want to do, you can force yourself to do it. Even if it's stupid."

* * *

An hour later, Duke briefly considering re-dialing and picking up his previous phone conversation, but decided against it. It was starting to get dark on the horizon and with the whole day tomorrow to sort things out with Viola, an evening off sounded like a really good idea.

He said his goodnight to Val, and wandered leisurely back to his dorm. Once in the hallway, however, he stopped at seeing Olivia exit from his room, looking more than a bit…disheveled. Duke leaned against the wall, darkly amused. _'Olivia and Sebastian. Well isn't that…nice.'_

She froze upon noticing him. "Hi." She pointed vaguely to the door. "I was just…yeah. I was just leaving."

Duke nodded. "Okay." _''I can't believe you. Is that all you think about?''_ The memory was practically laughable now. No, that was unnecessary. Maybe Olivia really was as clueless as he most of the time. He caught her hand as she tried to slip past him. "Hey, one question."

Olivia turned back around, but wouldn't look at anything other than her shoes. "Yes? What is it?"

"The other night, at Cesario's," Olivia winced, "I mean, you never wanted to be there with me at all, did you? That was all about Sebastian." Viola had said as much, but he wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.

She looked up, at a spot somewhere over his left shoulder. "Well, it wasn't really Sebastian," If that was all he was going to get from her, then talking further probably wasn't helpful. Duke ignored her and turned to his door. It didn't really make a difference anyway. "And I don't like what you're-"

As he was pulling out his keys, Olivia suddenly cut herself off. "God, listen to me." It was said more to herself than to anyone else. Then, a bit louder: "I'm being a bitch, aren't I?"

Well, Duke knew better than to respond to _that_. Regardless, Olivia continued. "It's okay. You can say so. It's true."

"I'm not going to say that."  
"Well you should!"  
"No!"  
"Fine! Then don't!"

Duke, now thoroughly confused, turned back around to face his former crush. "Okay, what exactly is your problem? What did _I_ ever do to offend you?"

Olivia tilted her head, this time looking a little closer to his ear. Had she always avoided looking at him and he'd just never noticed because he was too nervous to do so? "You mean walking around like you own the place isn't enough? You think you can just do anything you want. Cheerleaders hanging off of you all the time, skipping class whenever you don't want to go! And no one says a word all because you can kick a stupid ball."

Duke waited for it to hurt, but after a moment's pause he realized that, as he'd thought a few times before, he was mostly just annoyed at her assumptions. He'd realized for some time that being with Olivia was more about defending who he was than liking who she was. Val echoed inside Duke's head. _"Just tell me what the hell you want to tell me, and not what you think I want to hear!"_

"You know," Duke replied slowly, "It's a shame, how wrong you are about people. Some people suck, I know. But I'm not the guy you're talking about." He pushed open the door, leaving Olivia wide-eyed in the hall. But before he could get far enough in the close it, Olivia's voice caught up with him.

"Wait!"

Duke leaned around the door, suspicious. "What?"

"I'm sorry," she sighed, actually looking at him this time. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for using you the other night. That never should have happened. It was a bad idea all around. And I'm sorry for being a bitch to you this summer, too. And every day since. I know that wasn't your fault either." She paused. "You don't have to say…but…Did you know? Before I did?"

Duke shook his head. "No. I was never invited to any of their parties. Probably because they knew I would find out."

"Would you have told me if you did?"

Duke recalled her tear-stained face, begging her then-boyfriend to stop cheating on her. He couldn't imagine contributing to it. "No. But I would have beaten the shit out of him. Then probably told you he moved away or something."

Olivia managed a small grin. "I guess that's fair." She stuck out her hand. "Friends?"

"Friends."

"Dude! Can you shut the door?" Sebastian's head appeared around the corner of the closet, talking unnecessarily loudly, as he still had his ear buds in. "I heard there's a giant tarantula that lives in the hallway."

* * *

Sunshine from an oddly high angle awoke Duke the next morning, leading a moment of class-related panic that made the ensuing ability to stay in bed so much sweeter. Next to him, his new roommate showed no signs of movement. Duke stretched once, then rolled over and decided then and there that the real Sebastian Hastings was a pretty smart guy. _"God bless Labor Day.'_

* * *

It was a quarter to noon when the hum of a cell phone pulled Duke back to the waking world. He waited a moment, but Sebastian still hadn't moved an inch. _'That could get a little annoying.' _ The phone rang again. It was some music riff that Duke didn't recognize, but at least was better than…_Barbie_.

The move had become habit, so he didn't really think about it as he leaned over the nightstand to check the display. _'Vi.'_

Duke exhaled. So she was calling her brother.

Big deal.

Didn't mean anything.

He c_ertainly_ didn't have to do anything about it._ 'If there's really something you want to do, you can force yourself to do it. Even if it's stupid.'_

Before he could talk himself out of it, he rolled onto his hip, swung out an arm and grabbed the phone to flip it open.

"Viola. Don't hang up." His voice was still rough from sleep, not the smooth greeting he'd hoped for. But still, he had her listening, and his team was counting on him to bring her home. It wasn't important that she thought very highly of him.

"Oh-what...Duke? Okay." Her voice quieted. "What's going on? Is Sebastian okay?"

"He's fine." Duke answered in a clipped tone, waving his hand in the general direction of his roommate, before mentally chastising himself for forgetting she couldn't see him. "Are you busy?"

"Like, now?"

Christ, what was with the Hastings'? He practically growled a response. "_Yes_! Right now. We need to talk."

"Yes! _No_- no! _I mean_," The line went quiet, and Duke heard Viola breathing deeply. "No, I'm not busy. But…can we meet? I'm mean, obviously we've met, but as people who are, y'know, _in person_." Duke paused while a muffled _'augh!'_ inexplicably sqeaked out of the tiny speaker. He wanted to be honest with her, but didn't want to get into a fight with her in a public place, so if he agreed to meet it'd have to be strictly a soccer issue. Plus, he didn't want to go _near_ the Cornwall side of town in broad daylight for little while, and anywhere on campus was obviously out. It caught him by surprise when she continued with her own suggestion. "How about lunch at Cesario's? This guy I know once told me they do a pretty good cheese pizza."

This time is was Duke taking a breath. He remembered that day with startling clarity: the smile on her face, the clingy white dress, how tantalizingly close everything had been for one second before- "Yeah. That'll be fine." He glanced at the clock and then at his pajama shorts. If she wanted to meet face-to-face, whatever she had to say probably wasn't good. Still, if he were going to _see_ her, he should probably have pants on. "In about an hour?"

"Perfect."

"Alright. See you." Duke closed the phone and tightened his fist. Just in time to avoid throwing it, he remembered that it actually belonged to his roommate.

* * *

Duke arrived first. He'd wasted no time getting showered and dressed after the call, though he couldn't really justify to himself why it was so important. In his haste, he didn't realize until he'd arrived that his t-shirt, jeans and jacket were uncomfortably similar to another ill-fated outing.

_"I have no idea what I'm doing." Finally, and with a very put-out huff, Sebastian swung out of bed and marched over to the closet. Without a word he yanked two articles of clothing out of the dresser. He pushed the items into Duke's hands, with a terse "Here. You're making this way too difficult."_

_He regarded the clothes for a moment. Plain white t-shirt, plain jeans. "This is what your brilliant experience comes up with?"_

_"It's classic. You'll look like a Calvin Klein ad."_

Cesario's had a decent crowd working, but it wasn't totally full and that was perfect for Duke. Busy enough that they could blend in, but not so much that they couldn't talk. It took a moment to glance around, doubling checking that Viola was still absent and not simply overlooked. He slipped into his usual table by habit, tossing his jacket next to him. Would Viola be able to find him here?

'_Of course, you idiot.'_ Viola _had_ been here with him before- _twice_- but Duke was pretty sure she had no idea how often he really came. In fact, he couldn't recall if she'd ever actually e_aten_ here. She'd cut out early on that faux-date night, and hadn't stopped talking long enough to chew anything the day all the mysterious girlfriends had come out of the woodwork.

The door swung open again, and Duke immediately straightened his posture. Viola. She stood in the doorway and scanned through the tables just as he had, as of yet unaware of him.

The waitress from Friday came up at that moment. "Hey, Duke." Viola spotted him. "Sorry it took me so long to get around to you." She was walking towards his table, a wary expression on her face. "Will it be the usual?" Viola slid into the opposite side of the booth just in time to join the awkward silence.

The waitress looked between them twice, like a silent tennis match, and then raised her eyebrows. "Ok, you guys look like you need some space." She dropped two menus on the table and nodded at Duke. "I'll put that in for you and come back. In awhile, maybe."

Duke made a note to leave her a good tip.

Viola tilted her head up and opened her mouth after a moment of silence, but seemed to think the better of it. Duke took a deep breath and broke the ice. He'd been the one who wanted to talk with her, after all. "You were really great on Saturday. Not a lot of people could have managed that kick the way you did." It was polite and true, and Duke was determined to stick to soccer. Although the place had seen worse, he really didn't want to start a shouting match in the middle of Cesario's. Viola had a way of attracting attention.

_I love you._ Yeah, like that. But had it been an admission or just another ploy?

Viola, however, was not going along with his plan. "Duke, I _can't_ say I'm sorry enough. I know there's no way to make up for all of it, and it was very, _very_ stupid of me to think that I could do and say everything that I did in this whole charade without hurting anyone. I totally crossed the line; I didn't mean it. And I just _really, really_ hope that- that…" She stopped for a moment, eyes closed tightly. "Look, I know I owe you a _major _apology. I am _so sorry_ about what happened. And the way it happened. I wanted to tell you- _really_, I did and I was going to- and I _never _expected that I would-"

"Viola. Stop." His stomach twisted, ribbons of hurt, satisfaction, and anger wrapped up with the need to tell her about his own agenda.

_It was very, very stupid of me to think that I could do and say everything that I did in this whole charade without hurting anyone._ Even though he knew it was important that she was being honest, it still hurt to hear , he'd been keeping his own secrets, and it wasn't right that she should be the only one confessing. "The truth is, I was lying to you too."

The girl froze and paled; a look unlike anything Duke had ever seen on her despite the number of inelegant situations he'd seen her in. Was it just him or did she look a little sick?

"Alright! Who's ready to order?"

"Not now!" They both barked the response, and ignored the poor waitress as she walked away muttering about empty tables and customers. _'A _really_ good tip for her, then.'_

Viola busied herself flipping through a menu, turning pages too fast to actually read anything. "So we should pick something before she comes back, yeah? It looks like they have a lot."

"Viola."

"Are you hungry?" Her words were coming very quickly. "I guess didn't really ask earlier. I just sort of assumed…Well, anyway, I'm sure you can at least get something to-"

"Viola!" She was wearing on his patience a bit. Why wouldn't she just let him get it out? "The whole time- that we were working together- I was lying." Viola shivered, looking unhappy. Without thinking about it, Duke handed her his jacket without pausing, "It was never about you, not for me."

Viola sunk a little into his coat, and Duke thought she must be pretty angry at him. The girl didn't even look in his direction, instead turning her face away into the collar and giving a deep sigh. "Duke- I'm sorry…I don't think I want to hear-"

He interrupted her, not caring that it was rude. He didn't really care what she wanted at the moment. He deserved a chance to come clean too. "I did it for me. I was trying to make myself look good."

Viola paused and sat up straight. "What?" The small word was surprisingly honest, not at all sarcastic.

Time to ante up. It'd been eating at him for too long already. He was starting to feel a little nauseous himself. "When I offered to help you out in exchange for you talking to Olivia? I would have done it anyway. I was on Dinklage's shit list, and I thought that I could prove myself by taking you from the bench to starter."

"Okaay…" Viola drew the word out, as though she thought he wasn't finished. A moment's silence convinced her he was through. "Is that all?"

Now it was Duke's turn. "What?" _'Wasn't that enough?'_

Viola gave a look that was half confused and half cautious. "Well, I mean- everyone sort of already knew that." When he clearly didn't show any signs of understanding, she continued carefully. "You're the captain. It's your job to help the team be better, to set the example for the rest of us. There's no shame in wanting Dinklage to think you're doing it well." She reached across the table and put a hand over his. "I know how much his opinion means to you. _You'll_ feel you're good at it when he does. I never expected you to help me without a reason. It's not like we were really good friends, not at first."

The words and gesture were probably meant to be comforting, but they had the opposite effect. She knew him well. They _had _been close. They'd been _friends_. He'd poured out more secrets to his roommate than to anyone else, anyone else ever maybe, believing that she'd been someone else entirely. For God's sake, they'd talked about _Viola naked_! The memory struck Duke like a sledge hammer to the chest. _'Oh, Jesus. How could she…?'_

Ah, there was that anger again. The fierceness of his reaction reminded him why he was really there. '_No more of that. The team comes first.' _"Look, we're getting off track. I'm here to talk about the team."

"Oh?" Viola was surprised. Why exactly did she think he'd wanted to talk?

"The guys- we talked about it. I know you didn't really want to be here. I know you can go back to Cornwall without a problem. But if your goal is to play, you should play where it's best. And also, we're pretty much up the shit creek without you." Duke said the words steadily, aware that he was avoiding the point. _'Just tell me what the hell you want to tell me!' _"You're right. My job is to make the team better. And what _I_ said on Saturday _is_ true. Our best shot at being great is with you. The team is better when you're a part of it. So," God, he didn't want to do it. He didn't want to face her every day, remembering what it was like, _could have been like_ to be with her. What it _had been like_ to be lied to and left by her. _'The team comes first.'_ He forced the words out. "We want you to think about transferring. You know, as yourself."

Viola smiled. Duke hardened himself against it. "Really?" He nodded, but didn't speak. He didn't want to give her a reason to think he wasn't serious about this, but he'd have a hard time working up sincerity for idea at the moment.

"We'll, I'm glad to hear that. I was a bit busy over the weekend." Now she blushed. "Um, this morning I sort of turned in the application paperwork."

Duke looked up. "Application? To Illyria? You'll transfer?" He couldn't believe she had been planning on coming back. At that moment, he fell a little bit more in love with her.

"Start tomorrow. Well, _continue_ I guess. I think Sebastian's gonna have a harder time catching up than I am." She grinned expectantly, but Duke just nodded once more.

"Practice is at four."

Viola was solemn again. "Oh. Okay." She hesitated and then looked down at her unused menu, "I'm not really hungry anymore. You?"

"No. Not really." Understatement. The thought of food made him want to vomit.

Viola scooted out of the booth stiffly. "Well, then, I'm just gonna-" She gestured at the door. "See you tomorrow?"

"See you."

He refused to watch her walk out the door, instead choosing to lay his head on the table and contemplate staying there forever. There were worse places in the world.

"Here you go!" A chipper voice and greasy cheese smell reached him, and Duke cursed to himself. He'd totally forgotten that most of the wait staff here knew to put his pizza in for him. Damn. He grunted some sort of response, and was left alone for a few blessed seconds.

Then, a very strange occurrence. A large shadow crossed in front of him, but rather than move on, it stopped. Who _else_ could he be expected to face today? If it was Toby or Andrew here to make fun of him, he might throw a punch.

"Duke."

'_Oh God, no. No way. I must be hallucinating. In four years he's _never _been…'_ Slowly, with great trepidation, Duke rolled his head to the side and looked up. Just as he'd feared.

"Hey, Coach."

* * *

"Duke. Enjoying your day off?" The words were common enough, and yet Duke couldn't seem to grasp it. It took him several seconds to respond.

"I've been better."

Dinklage tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment, smoothly sat down in the place Viola had vacated moments ago, and helped himself to a piece of pizza. "I've had some interesting phone calls this morning."

After all that had happened, Duke really couldn't work up any surprise. Dinklage just knew everything. He sat up from the table and slumped against the back of the booth. "I wanted to see what her plans were. She's coming back."

"The Headmaster told me this morning." Dinklage added. He was still speaking without any real indication of what he was thinking- just the way Duke had left him after the game. "They're just waiting on transcripts from Cornwall. And for me to sign-off on whether or not she can get on the team roster."

Despite the talent Viola might have, Dinklage was not going to overlook the whole incident easily. Duke realized he should have known better. "You don't want her back on the team?"

"Do you?"

"We'd be stupid not to." Duke responded with a sigh. It was true, he knew. The team would be better with Viola than without. Would he? "Our only other option would be to put Haimes in at center and move Feldman back in on the side. At least until Cohen can play. But even then, we don't have anyone as good as she is there."

The coach's mouth twitched for a moment- the beginnings of a smile. "That's a fair assessment." Then he grew serious again, but he lost his expressionless look and now seemed truly concerned. "But not what I asked. Do _you_ wanther back? Here's a hint: I want an answer without using the word 'we'."

Duke was silent, staring into the center of the table. Dinklage hummed and then continued.

"I've told you before: this about more than winning and losing. You were put in a terrible position. She _has_ lied, and that's something that will have to be dealt with one way or another. There's a certain amount of animosity on the team that I can live with. I don't expect everyone to get along and it'll do well for the bunch of you to have some experience dealing with people you can't stand. But, in the end, if it won't work for _you_ then it won't work for me."

The statement made Duke look up. "Really?"

For a moment, Dinklage gave him a look that most people associated with a sarcastic response ("No, I was kidding, _idiot._") but Duke knew better. He waited, and instead got: "You've earned it. It's not just about you having seniority. I've always expected a lot from you, and you've risen to the occasion every time. I'm not about to trade you for anyone. I know you take being a captain seriously, but there's no need to take on all the hardships yourself. If _you'll_ be better off without Hastings, then we'll go on without Hastings."

"Thank you," Duke couldn't help but relax a little. "It means a lot that you'd do that for me."

"Don't get a big head. You aren't perfect." Dinklage said casually, ignoring Duke's muttered _Oh, I know_. "But this is your team too. I want you to be pushed, it's true, and maybe not everything I've tried to do towards that has worked out for the best." Duke bit into his pizza to avoid making a sarcastic face.

"Watch it." Dinklage leveled the full strength of his glare, but it was somehow warmer than usual and Duke just grinned and continued to chew in response. "I said _maybe._ Christ, you're going to be impossible from now on." The coach shook his head and looked up, all business once more. "I've got something else to mention to you." Duke couldn't disguise his exasperation. What _else_ could he deal with? Regardless, Dinklage continued. "When's the last time you went home and checked your mail?"

That was something Duke was _not_ expecting. "What? Uh…Awhile, I guess." Okay, so he hadn't checked his mail since July. What did that have to do with anything? He got the sense that Dinklage was setting up something again.

Dinklage harrumphed. "Obviously. I told you I got more than one call this morning. One was from Todd Yeagley."

Duke narrowed his eyes. It sounded familiar. Where did he know that from? Dinklage gave him a moment's pause to come up with it, but seeing it wouldn't happen, he went on. "He's an assistant with Indiana."

It took Duke three tries to swallow his bite before he could respond. _"Indiana? _Like, the _University_?"

Dinklage gave him another Look. _Duh._ "They're interested in sending someone to see our game against Kolbe Cathedral next week. And in seeing you, in particular." Duke was certain the expression on his face resembled a fish.

"Don't lose focus. Think about Hastings and let me know. Whatever you decide, I'll support it."

Just like that, Duke was sitting alone again, slightly dazed. The waitress came by to re-fill his drink a moment later and sighed. "Duke, you get the dullest food and yet always have the _weirdest_ meals here."

His grin became a smile. "Yeah. I know." He tried to hand her a twenty, but she refused.

"Huh-uh. Your coach already picked up the check."

Duke refused to be denied. He was in a good mood. "Take it anyway. You earned it."

* * *

Duke walked slowly back to campus, enjoying the last twinge of warm weather while he could. The air was getting cool and the sun was already slanting a little bit; by the time their next holiday off rolled around, it would be Thanksgiving, afternoon sunlight would be almost non-existent, and soccer season would be over.

It didn't seem so far away, thinking of it like that. Less than three months. There was a lot between now and then, it was true: plenty of games, the conference tournament, and state championships. College visits. Midterms. Homecoming. But the time would pass quickly.

He didn't want to miss any more of it. He didn't want to spend any more of his last year moping and acting crazy. And he wanted his friends to enjoy their last year too. He wanted to _win_.

So how did Viola fit into that?

He would have to make a plan, one way or another. He could either find a way to work with her, or he'd have to turn his back on the whole affair. It'd been pretty clear that their conversation today had left them both unhappy, too much and yet not enough said between them. But she _had_ been sorry for how things turned out, that much Duke believed. So if they were to be on the team together, she probably wouldn't go out of her way to make things difficult for him.

After all, hadn't he found a way to clear the air between himself and Olivia? Surely he could do the same with Viola. Just because he'd fallen for her didn't mean he needed to act on it _or_ ignore her altogether. If she agreed to peace between them, he could resign himself with a one-sided crush. He'd done it for years.

It could work. It _would_. Duke imagined that winning the conference and a state title would go a long way towards making it easier, too. And having Viola around would make those things more likely.

It would be great.

* * *

Duke arrived back at his room to find Toby and Andrew using his PS2, and his roommate nowhere to be seen. "Where've you been, man? Andrew's about to crush your high score." Toby didn't look up from his spot lounging against the wall. Andrew followed the comment with a groan and a curse, making Toby chuckle. "Or maybe not."

"I talked to Viola today."

The two other boys snapped to attention. "Yeah? What happened?" Andrew was trying for casual.

"I think everything will work out. She's enrolling for real." Duke busied himself hanging up his jacket.

"Do we like her or not now?" Duke couldn't help but laugh a little. It was so like the two of them to be willing to do whatever he needed.

"I think we do. I still have to hammer out some details on that."

"Chicks, man." Andrew added helpfully. Duke laughed again.

"Yeah, well, at least I've learned my lesson about mixing girls and soccer."

* * *

Waiting for his chemistry class to start was a whole new kind of torture on Tuesday, as Duke sat watching the door and wondering. Technically, _Sebastian_ been registered for this class, and Duke wasn't sure what kind of timetable Viola would end up with. Neither one of the Hastings' showed, though, and Duke spent the class sharing confused looks with Olivia. Duke had been by to talk to Dinklage that morning, and knew that Viola had, in fact, been enrolled. The coach did not seem surprised that Duke wanted her back on the roster.

But did Viola did manage to turn up at practice right on time, jogging onto the field from the girl's side while complaining loudly about having a new schedule and why couldn't they just give her Sebastian's classes? Dinklage raised an eyebrow towards Duke, who simply nodded silently and that was that on the issue.

Viola Hastings was on the team.

Dinklage started practice with stairs, making it difficult, if not straight out impossible, to have any kind of conversation. That was just fine by Duke.

"You do not impress me, ladies." Dinklage called out from his spot in the middle of the stands. "Do you think that Masuk or Pomperaug will stand still and let you outrun them? Do you think now that Cornwall is a game down you can do whatever you please? I want to see some _effort._"

He was right, of course. It felt great to come off a win over Cornwall, but there was plenty of playing left to do. Duke vowed to himself that he wouldn't lose sight of that again. Going a date the night before a huge game? Causing fights with his roommate, or another team? Ridiculous. It had all caused so much unnecessary trouble. To do something like that next week would wreck more than their title hopes. It could cost him or his teammates a shot at _college_.

It was a tired and dirty, but fairly high-spirited group that wandered toward the locker rooms an hour and a half later. Duke lingered behind, eyes scanning over the rest of the team as they walked. Cohen was still out, probably for the next couple of weeks, but they seemed to have gotten off lightly in the injury department otherwise. Viola was waiting by the door when he got there.

"Hey."

"Hey."

No one spoke for a few minutes, then Viola took a breath and blurted out. "Thank you."

It caught Duke by surprise. "For what?"

Viola's face was flushed, but she smiled. "For wanting me back, for one thing. I would totally understand if you didn't. Dinklage let me know in no uncertain terms that I should feel lucky to still be on the team after lying to everyone. And to you, especially."

Duke laughed. This was easy. He could handle this. "Okay, I know he did _not_ say that."

"He did." Viola insisted. "Practically word for word. He likes you."

"Sometimes." Duke shrugged. "But you're welcome. Like I said, I meant that stuff from Saturday. We're better with you than without." The pressure was off. He would keep talking to her and everything would be fine.

* * *

With the season off and running and no more drama to deal with, life became surprisingly _fun_. By the start of October, they had yet to drop a match, including what Duke felt was a particularly brilliant game against Kolbe Cathedral, and he'd passed his first chemistry exam. He'd had a brief but encouraging conversation with the Indiana assistant who'd come out to watch them, and whatever he'd been getting in the mail was becoming enough to make his mother call and insist he come home soon to deal with it.

Things were falling into line, and Duke knew he wasn't the only one that could feel it. The more they won, the harder they worked, and the more they won. The rest of their conference fell like dominoes. Rowdy victories at home against Joel Barlow, Stratford, and Notre Dame. Earnest road wins at Newtown and Brookfield. _This was going to be the year._

Moreover, it became easier and easier to spend time with Viola. He'd done so well this past month, being friendly but keeping his distance, that surely one step further wouldn't _ruin_ anything. They'd spoken at all their post-victory parties, and once he stopped trying to be perfect, he relaxed enough to enjoy himself. She continued to help him in chemistry, which lead into SAT practice. Duke offered to keep up their post-practice workouts, and they started walking to dinner together after. Being with her just made him so much _happier_.

* * *

Thursday's game against Weston ended up being a 6-0 blowout in which the entire second string stayed on the field for the last twelve minutes. Two scouts from UConn and Yale were rumored to be in the crowd, but Duke steadfastly refused to look for them, instead concentrating on the second stringers' performance. Viola sat between him and Bentley near the end of the bench during the garbage time and made idle chat, gamely ignoring the random moments he jumped up to shout directions to Shuler or Donner if Dinklage was busy looking elsewhere on the field. Andrew imitated him behind his back, causing Grillo and Allgood to fall off the bench laughing, while Toby traded sickeningly mushy faces with Eunice. He made it through the entire game without once thinking about kissing Viola. It was everything he'd hoped for.

It was a little bit boring.

Duke refused to say so, of course. He was as happy about the win as anyone, and even a little relieved that their second string got the chance for decent game experience. Everyone had fun. He should have had fun.

But there was something missing.

Andrew and Yuri lead the crew back to Cesario's for dinner, walking arm-in-arm down the street and shouting parts of various cheers loudly. Viola was only a few steps behind them, laughing as Jessica tried to teach her some kind of corresponding arm movements with the chant.

Very few people actually sat down once they arrived; a chunk of the study body had turned out also and the place was packed.

Duke ate and laughed and enjoyed himself in a generic kind of way, but couldn't help but pause every so often to wonder if it couldn't be a little better. It seemed like things had to potential to be more satisfying if he wasn't compelled to follow Viola around the room with his eyes. Still, it was all working out okay until Olivia approached her and Val, dismissing the two loser freshmen they were talking to, much to Duke's short-lived relief. But then Olivia leaned in over Viola's shoulder and whatever she said caused Viola to immediately turn and look his way. Duke smiled, and held eye contact for a long moment.

Val poked Viola in the side and raised her eyebrows. That broke the spell as Viola immediately made a face at him and gestured a finger toward the two other girls, ala 'they're crazy.' Duke gave her a sympathetic nod.

Toby, standing next to him, watched the exchange. "You both are so pathetic. Jesus, just go talk to her."

"Shut up." Duke glared and Toby shrugged.

"You eat lunch with her two or three times a week. You study together all the time. Everyone else already thinks you two are dating."

"We're not. She's not interested like that, and I'm done letting girls make me stupid."

"I'm just saying. Maybe your problem was more about _not_ taking action." Eunice disappeared around a corner toward the back exit, and Toby clapped him on the shoulder. "Pardon me, but I'm going to go enjoy being so excellently ignorant, then."

Duke glanced back at Viola. She caught his eye and smiled.

* * *

In mid-October, the weather took a sudden snap for the worse. The result was a wrenching 2-1 away loss against Bunnell played during a freezing cold rainstorm that, in the immediate aftermath, almost everyone was relieved to _just have over with_ more than anything else. Dinklage did not look at all relieved, and Duke knew that if the weather were any better, they'd be running laps _tonight_.

He _hated_ losing, even knowing as he did that a loss wouldn't knock them out of the state title. But it was made worse knowing that the conference tournament loomed on the horizon, and he'd somehow have to find a way to keep everyone's spirits up next week though he wasn't sure how when he could barely keep himself together. Viola had twisted an ankle during the game; not a serious injury, but enough to get him seeing red and playing ugly for the remainder of the game. He'd gotten yellow-carded for inappropriate language, and they hadn't been able to score during the critical minutes he'd wasted on the bench. Duke was furious with himself for putting his own feelings above the team. It would have to stop.

He had to let go. No more watching her out of the corner of his eye. No more looks, no more study dates.

Everyone was still soaking wet as they arrived back on campus after the game, in a poor mood despite it being Friday night. The vast majority of the team made sullen goodnights before heading off into the dark, most, including Duke, skipping the return to the locker room in favor of simply shoving wet jerseys into their duffle bags. Duke wanted nothing more than to crash in his own bed, too, but he'd made the mistake of agreeing to come home this weekend, and his mother would no doubt be waiting to make him help with her debutante party this weekend.

He leaned wearily against the lamppost on the quad, wondering whether going to the parking lot or his dorm would end up being the best bet. Viola walked past him briefly, before she stopped herself and walked five or six steps backwards.

"That's an awfully uncomfortable looking spot."

Duke shrugged. He was largely numb from the cold by now anyway. "It's okay."

They stood next to one another without speaking for a solid two minutes. Duke appreciated the silence, and tried to remember when her overly-chatty "Sebastian" personality wouldn't ever seem to shut up, when she did little else but annoy him. Was this loss the price for focusing on her too much yet again?

As always, Viola had her own ideas. "So, losing? It really sucks." Duke's mouth twisted, but he didn't respond. Viola's face was getting a little flushed, and he hoped she wasn't getting a cold too. "And I really hated how unhappy you looked on the way back. It made me realize I have something I need to say." Her entire face was blushing now. Definitely not just from the weather. "You know how, a couple of weeks ago, you told me that you meant what you said during the Cornwall game? About me making the team better?" Off Duke's sharp nod, she continued, this time with a bit of a stutter. "I- I meant what I said during that game too." She hesitated, and Duke suddenly started to get the feeling that this conversation was about to head somewhere he didn't want it to go. "Duke, I was so happy to have the chance to get to know you. Not just for the soccer stuff, but because…I'm really in love you." His face must have tipped her off, because Viola cut herself short. "Wow, that's not a good look."

If he had thought watching Viola walk away after that game like she _didn't_ care was painful, hearing that she really _did_ was agonizing. He felt a little dizzy. He'd been so good at facing the idea that she hadn't meant it. He could _deal_ with the fact that she didn't think of him like that. He'd been trying to focus on soccer and just be her teammate.

He was not ready for this. Part of him wanted to smile. He could grab her hand right now, and they could go get dinner and ignore all the gossip that would certainly ensure. It would be easy. He'd have the right to kiss her whenever he wanted, Justin Drayton and anyone else who'd stop him be damned.

There were a thousand reasons to agree with her.

But if they fought again- and Duke acknowledged, they probably would at some point, given their personalities- it would divide the team. Any amount of time was too long for that.

The league was full of guys like Drayton or worse, and the wrong kind of comment about him and Viola would almost certainly start another fistfight on the field. They would be suspended for sure if it happened again.

And, worst of all, how much more time would he blow off practice or film to spend with Viola instead? Even if he tried to avoid it…Hadn't it already happened more than enough?

He'd learned his lesson. He lost his way far too easily where this was concerned. After all, he'd ignored one of his best friends and former teammate because of what happened with Olivia, had skipped meetings and thrown punches when upset over Viola. He owed it to everyone- including Viola- to keep that from happening again.

She'd come here because she'd wanted the chance to play, to keep playing in college. He'd do his damnedest to make sure she got the chance. Another loss like this one and they'd lose a lot of ground in seeding later in the year. He wanted to avoid feeling this way again at all costs.

"Viola…" It was easy enough to begin, but then what? "It's just…" _'What's the truth, Duke?'_ "You have no idea, how much I want to hear that. But…" _'The team comes first.'_ "I can't. It can't be like that. It would be a _disaster_ waiting to happen. I'm not-" _'Don't lose focus.'_ "I've messed up too many things already. I'm not going to add you to the list. I'm sorry."

Viola nodded slowly. She was pale now, but her eyes were red. Duke was willing to bet he was in a similar state. "You're, ah, about to tell me we should still be friends, aren't you?"

"I just want everyone to play their best." It sucked, but that was as much as he could give her. She started to take a step away, then turned back.

"Hypothetically- if I were just a regular girl, and had never joined the team- would your answer be different?"

He wanted to give her an honest answer, but he didn't _know_ the answer. It didn't seem to bother her, though, because Viola spoke up again.

"Actually, nevermind. It's doesn't really matter anyway, does it?" Duke was pretty sure it _did_ matter, but he couldn't say why, so he stayed silent. _'Coward.'_

An hour later, he laid face down on his bed and refused to cry in front of his roommate.

Maybe it would have been worth another loss to avoid feeling _this_.

* * *

There were four missed calls on his cell phone when he pulled himself into a sitting position Saturday morning, three of which were from his mother and one he ignored. Duke listened to the first message, decided the others would be varying degrees of the same things, and deleted them all. His throat felt dry, and the rest of him was exhausted.

He'd have to face the music and go home today, but Duke couldn't see a reason to hear the lecture before he had to. He looked blearily around his room, composing a mental list of stuff he needed to take. It was well past time to swap out his current clothes for warmer gear, and his formal stuff from the photo day was still sitting in a wrinkled pile somewhere under his bed.

Sebastian wasn't in the room, and Duke had since learned that Sebastian preferred to be heard and not seen. He was rarely around- Duke would guess that the number of times the guy had even shown up to chemistry was still in single digits- but his laundry pile gradually grew and the collection of cd's on his desk changed every so often, so Duke knew he was around. While his newest roommate had his positive points, it was still enough to make him miss the original version.

He pulled his duffle bag off the floor from where he'd tossed it last night, and wasted no time shoving in handfuls of clothing to take back with him. Some of the t-shirts and shorts were going home to make space, but most of it was laundry he'd been too lazy to get around to doing. Duke yanked his hand back out with a curse as he realized his wet jersey was still balled up on the bottom. He pulled the offending item out and checked the lining of the bag; still wet, but passable for dirty clothes.

His jersey was damp too- not to mention wrinkled and musty-smelling- and the yellow armband still clung to one of the sleeves. Duke cursed aloud again, as the frustration of yesterday hit him again. He took his responsibility as a leader seriously, but Viola had picked the _worst_ possible moment to come along…

If they'd won yesterday, would he have given her the same answer? Would he have had the strength to say no?

He shook his head and threw himself on the bench against the wall. He'd done the right thing. _'It was for the best.' _Exhaustion fell over him again and settled into his spot. There was no rush to get home, where there was no way he'd find anything _less_ stressful than here. An hour, he just needed one hour without talking to anyone, or doing anything. His jersey could dry, and then he would grab his bag and force himself to go home.

Twenty minutes into his personal time-out, the door opened. Sebastian cautiously walked around the edge, as though he were afraid to enter. Getting no reaction from Duke, he walked forward. "Hey, _roomie_."

Duke had no comment.

"This is for you." Sebastian smiled sheepishly and left for parts unknown once again. He was an okay guy and all, but he was undoubtedly acting as messenger for Viola right now. To this point they had avoided any mention of her or what had happened a month ago, and that was the way Duke liked it. If they started arguing about it, things could get…_messy_.

Still, it _was_ a mysterious box, and that clearly meant it should be opened. Duke dreaded what might be inside. Viola wasn't Eunice-caliber crazy or anything (He was _pretty sure_…), but he'd read enough Shakespeare to be wary of a woman scorned.

The top of the box slid off easily. The envelope caught his eye first, simply addressed with only his first name. It bothered him for a moment, until he noticed: the handwriting was oddly curlier and girlier, a world apart from the hastily jotted messages and shorthand notes he was used to from his roommate. _Former roommate_. Who was this girl, after all? Had he ever really gotten to know her at all?

Duke recognized the heavy paper inside before he'd even finished reading it. He'd been dreading the Junior League debutante party since August, vaguely irritated over whomever his mother was certain to foist on him for the night.

And now…Well, he still didn't really want to go. But…

He flipped the card onto his bed, where he wouldn't have to think about it. It landed face down, but a bluish-purple stain on the corner caught his eye. Viola's handwriting, the _real_ thing, was penned on the back. The note was short, but unmistakably Viola and no one else.

_I'm really screwed up, I know. I did everything all wrong from the very beginning. Please meet me anyway? -V_

* * *

End Part 10

I am so sorry that it took so long for this part to get out. I have half of the finale written already, so it shouldn't be nearly this long again. Some of you may have noticed that in the very original plan, there were nine chapters. I split up two chapters that had gotten a little long (Chapters 4 and 5, actually), so then it was ten chapters. Now I have found that chapter 10 was about to become a 25,000 word behemoth, so I split it too. Yay? I promise, _promise_, chapter 11 will be the last part.

_That dreaded beast called OFC, i.e Val:_ I know, I know. I don't like OFC's anymore than the rest of you. But it's pretty hard to deny that the Duke that shows up to talk to Viola at the end is a lot more confident than the one we left at the end of the Cornwall game, so there was a lot of growth he needed to go through from some different corners of his life, and something needed to happen to kickstart that. I think it was pretty important that Duke hears that he was already a good leader and had got a lot going for him, and that he hears it from 1) a girl 2)who knows him fairly well 3) without an agenda (i.e. Not Viola). For a while, in very early versions of the ending, Olivia filled that role, but then I felt that Olivia didn't know him well enough and Duke really needed a chance to stand up to her instead. Then, when the whole story got fleshed out, a totally new character ( who would become Samantha Toures, mentioned in my other STM story) came in do it. But I really hated that, since "Sam" didn't have a basis in the play or the movie and therefore never had a really reasonable place to appear in any earlier chapters. I'm confessing all this because I really do want everyone to know that I don't take new, largely original characters lightly. Val ultimately came about because I could pop her into the story more often, so _hopefully_ by this point you guys don't feel like I shoehorned some random person in there. She is loosely based on an actual character from Twelfth Night named Valentine who is a friend of Duke Orsino in the play. (Get it? Val and Yuri were meant to be Valentine and Curio, both characters from the play whose jobs were to look out for the Duke. I did hint at it, but I didn't want to give too much away back in chapter 6;-)

_Timeline_: So, the invitation to the Debutante Ball says that it's on Saturday, October 22nd of 2006. The problem with that is that October 22 was a _Sunday_ in 2006. It was a Saturday in 2005, which was probably closer to when it was filmed (the movie was released in spring of 2006). Another funny thing about the year, I think, is that the soccer posters that are in Duke's dorm room are probably meant to reflect the Premier League title winner of the 04-05 season (this was the most recent completed season as the movie was filmed), because they're all of the Chelsea FC, a team that won its first Premiership title that year (or first since the 1950's, depending on who you ask). But Chelsea _also _won the league cup in 0_5_-06, making it accurate for a film set in fall of 2006, even though no one could have known that would be the case even at the time of release (March 2006), because league's season doesn't end until May! The set designer got very lucky;-) What? No one else thinks that's funny…?;-)

To this point, though I have called for questions, asked for some input in certain things, stated in no uncertain terms how much I like reviews and encouraged anyone to had something to say to certainly say it, I have tried to avoid asking for reviews outright. But since there is only one more chapter, I will ask that you please put down your thoughts. I know it's often awkward to say something (especially something critical) to a total stranger, but it really is very much appreciated.

There will be a "Graduation Day" sequel, though it will be much shorter, and as you might guess, will look in on our merry little band as they graduate from Illyria (and Cornwall?). So please, if you have anything you'd like me to address, now is certainly the time to say so!


	11. To Know Each Other

I apologize in advance for this ridiculous, indulgent authors note.

I can't tell you how much I've loved and hated writing this. The end! I've been building this part for such a long time. As I wrote previous parts, I would keep checking my outline for this chapter and inserting things that needed to be said so that they could be referenced here;-) I like to think it's all very "Chekov's Gun" style. There were even a lot of things I wanted to put in that got cut to keep the length near-reasonable. More than anything else, I wanted to avoid that tendency of some authors to make the end of a story unnecessarily long because they don't want to finish. How did I do? (Please don't actually answer that! ;-))

I'm not vain enough to request a re-read of all 115k words in this story (245 pages in Microsoft Word! This is a _novel_, baby!), but if you're up for it, it probably will help you. There are a lot of tiny references in this part to previous moments in the story that helped build this chapter. Isn't it crazy to think that after nearly four years of writing, this entire story takes place in only two months? My fault, entirely.

Admittedly, when I write my author's notes I try to put everything but the very essentials at the end so you can skip them easily if it is your inclination to do so. But I do have something I feel is pretty important to say, such that I even started crying when I began the notes for this chapter. I have enjoyed writing this story so much, but it doesn't even compare to what I've gotten out the people who have written to me about it. I've had amazing exchanges with a number of wonderful people, many who originally wrote me with no more reason than to say they liked this flight o' fancy of mine.

So now, much as I tend to shy away from boring you all with personal details of my life, I've a confession to make.

When I started writing this story, I had lost my job and had recently left my university program. I was facing a prospect of watching my credit card statements go up, no money come in, and waiting for my little house of cards to crumble. I saw this movie when, with no other way to entertain myself, I picked it up out of the discount bin because I'd seen part of it on TV and thought it might be cute. I started writing about it because I couldn't afford to go out to have fun like many of my friends, and I had to come up with something to say to them. Something to the effect of: "Sorry, I can't join you guys tonight. I want to finish a writing project I'm working on." I thought it would be a small, 10k word story to occupy a little bit of time.

When I posted the first chapter, I did it because I thought it was better to say I'd spent my weekends writing something for people to read than something that would just take up space on my computer. I could not have imagined what an impact it would have.

You guys, however new or old to this story you may be, changed my life. I thought that maybe, maybe, one or two people would stumble onto my story. I was blown away by the number and voracity of you all, my dear, dear readers. Such a simple thing- sometimes a single line, sometimes a long letter- just letting me know you were reading and enjoying made me ridiculously happy. I bartered with myself when I got new reviews. "Send off five resumes today and you can respond to them!" I would re-read your reviews before going to a job interview to inspire me and give me confidence. Surely, if so many of you guys saw something worth spending your time on, by reading and writing to me, I could convince an employer to do the same.

And it worked. I suppose it's a blessing and curse to some, to put a humorous spin on it (or do I put myself in too high regard? ;-). The reason it has taken me so long to finish is because I've gone from no job and nothing to do but write to a wonderful job that I love (admittedly, one or two not-so-great jobs in between) and found some wonderful people and places to spend my time (and delightfully regular paycheck;-) )with.

This isn't meant to worry anyone. I still love to write. Moreso now than ever, really. And I will still finish and post the wrap-up sequel to this story, along with one or two more one shots and whatever other projects come to mind. The future is bright, my dear friends!

What I really mean to say by all this boring, embarrassing, prattle is this:

Thank you.

Thank you all so, so much.

I still don't own anything. Without further delay, the last chapter!

Chapter 11 – To Know Each Other

_After the cheers have died down and the stadium is empty, after the headlines have been written and after you are back in the quiet of your room and the championship ring has been placed on the dresser and all the pomp and fanfare has faded, the enduring things that are left are: the dedication to excellence, the dedication to victory, and the dedication to doing with our lives the very best we can to make the world a better place in which to live._ - Vince Lombardi

* * *

The entry hallway to the house was still stark white when he walked through the door, but thankfully the floor now had a long rug for his shoes. The furniture was still white too, though a dozen of what Duke was sure were professionally placed throw pillows made it slightly less straining on the eyes. He sighed and continued on to his room. His mother's car was in the driveway, and it was only a matter of time before she appeared from somewhere and started begging for his help "with just one little thing" for the rest of the weekend.

His bedroom was still unfurnished too, a task that had been all but forgotten as he'd focused on the soccer season and his mother had been distracted by her Junior League stuff. _'Probably should have done something about that.'_ His choice would be guestroom, the couch or the floor for the night then. Damn.

The only new addition to the room was the overflowing box of mail just inside the door. Duke spotted several letters with the IU logo on the corner, but UCLA, Maryland, and Ohio State peeked out also. He couldn't believe there was so much!

Dinklage had been fielding most of the phone calls, and despite his best attempts to push Duke into meeting after meeting, the reality of college was only beginning to sink in. He'd taken the SAT last spring with respectable results, but given no further thought to the future than that. He hadn't even asked where Toby or Andrew wanted to apply. Would they end up together, or even near one another?

Would miss his chance at Indiana by being lazy?

'_Wonder where Viola is going to-'_ Duke squelched the treacherous thought and grabbed an armload of dirty clothes instead. He resolved to call Coach Yeagley on Monday and find out when his application was due and started for the laundry room. Might as well get _something_ useful accomplished today.

Duke was dumping his clothes into the washing machine when he heard his mother calling from the lower floor.

"Duke? Is that you, Caterpillar?"

"Yeah, Mom." Duke lied easily as he called over his shoulder. "I've got a ton of stuff to catch up on." Maybe she'd take it easy on him and give him an extra hour or two that way.

"Wonderful. Could you come down to the rec room?" Guess not.

The first thing he noticed downstairs was a hum of the microwave and the wafting smell of fake butter. _'Popcorn?'_ Duke rounded the corner of the kitchen to discover that some mysterious person had, in fact, set a bag to start popping, but he couldn't even remember the last time his mother had touched any appliance in the kitchen, much less the popcorn. He turned away to look toward the entrance of the rec room and realized that a greasy grill pan was also soaking in the sink, an open bag of hot dog buns on the counter next to it. '_What is going on?'_

The flatscreen in the rec room was already on and showing a commercial when Duke finally walked in. A shock of blonde hair, identical in color to his sister's, was visible over the back of the couch.

His mother sat on the corner sofa, posture still perfect, but wearing an oversized _sweatshirt_, of all things. She turned to face Duke as he entered the room and he saw the faded _Michigan 1983 CWS_ print across the front.

_Flabbergasted_ was not too strong of a word as Duke struggled to take in the scene. "What…" Confusion and anger swam before him. The television noise jumped as a baseball stadium jumped into view. The first notes of the National Anthem hung in the air. "What is this?"

Robert Lennox, former Illyria soccer captain and best friend, turned around and smiled easily. "You're just in time, man, you had us worried you weren't gonna be home in time. First pitch coming up."

This was all like a dream to Duke. He processed the meaning of each word slowly, like English was no longer a language he understood.

"You're a lifesaver, you know? Liv is _still_ going through about six dresses for her ridiculous thing tomorrow and she keeps asking me questions about things we both know I don't know the answer to. Like, why the _hell_ would I care what shoes she should wear? This is the worst Fall Break timing _ever_." Rob looked up suddenly, eyes darting guiltily across the room. "Uh, no offense, Ms. L."

Duke's mom was tearing up at the National Anthem, and waved off the minor insult with familiar ease. Duke is thrown by the recognition. How many times have the two of them sat in this room and complained to her about Junior League events? Hundreds, at least.

Duke finally finds his voice, after much delay. "But, what are you _doing _here?"

Rob's relaxed smile slipped a little in confusion. "I left you a message yesterday, since you never called me back last month. And that's a shame, 'cause I had to hear all the firsthand details of your _epic_ win over Cornwall from _Liv." _Noticing that Duke had still not reacted, Rob continued."Seriously? Detroit, Game 1, World Series? The thing you bet me fifty bucks would happen in May and I called you a sucker? Is any of this ringing a bell?"

But that was insane. He'd certainly not made any plans to watch a baseball game, _especially_ not with his former best friend and mother, of all things. Duke couldn't even remember the last time they'd spoken-

Oh, wait. Yes, he did remember that.

'_Are you back at home? I can come to your house.'_

'…_If you show up, we'll both get sucked in. How about I come to yours, instead?'_

_Shit._

That had been under distressing circumstances, though, days that Duke didn't want to deal with at the moment, so he spun around to face his mother instead. "Why are _you_ watching this? Don't you have, like, a million things to do?"

Cheryl stood with a sigh. "I've organized every luncheon, rehearsal, and detail for all of this year's events. Everything is ready. Daphne is next year's chair and she can handle things tonight. I want to watch the game."

"But…" It's what Duke had secretly missed for some time. Spending time with his mom- when she's _really _acting like herself and not a Stepford Wife- had been rare. "I don't…_Why?_"

His mom tilted her head to the hallway. "Come with me."

* * *

He followed wordlessly back up the stairs, feeling like a sleepy puppy. His mother walked straight past his door, leaving Duke surprised she wasn't going to harass him about the lack of furniture or overabundance of mail.

She kept walking straight into her room, finally pausing in front of her closet. "I have something for you."

Duke raised an eyebrow. '_If this is a new suit for tomorrow I'm going to scream.' _

"I should have given it to you a long time ago, I suppose. Or maybe never kept it to begin with." His mom was pacing now, her smile small and nervous. Duke didn't like it.

"Mom, what's going on? What is all this? Did Dinklage call you? 'Cause I can explain-"

Cheryl stopped pacing and looked up abruptly. "And _why_" She drug out the word humorously, "would that be necessary?"

"No reason." He tried to look innocent. His mother sighed again.

"Look, Duke. I know that you've been having a hard time lately. _Longer_ than lately. Things haven't really been right for a while now. I don't always know as much about your life as I should, but I do know that." Duke sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and his mom's slight weight dipped the mattress a moment later. It felt nice, to hear just that much acknowledged, if a little embarrassing. "And I thought that since I didn't know how to help you, the best I could do was to back off and not be a problem. So I spent my time with other things, so I wouldn't think of it."

"Mom, you're not a problem- I mean, you know, most of the time." Duke jumped to the defense. "No more than you should be, I guess."

"You know, it goes beyond just this summer. I've been doing a disservice to you for a long time." Duke noticed his mother rubbing the knuckle of her ring finger: her nervous habit ever since… "I told myself it was for your sake a lot of the time, but really, it was easier for me." Cheryl smiled and lifted a finger to lightly tug on the chain around his neck. Duke paled. She'd never noticed, or at least never acknowledged, the necklace before. Not once in ten years. He'd been careful about hiding it, at least at first, telling himself that he was afraid it would upset her or make him look like a thief. But, like his mother, he'd been keeping it close for his own sake.

"I know we don't talk about your dad that much. That's my fault. And I made it even worse by thinking that because I wasn't a very good mother, I shouldn't try at all. But we're more alike than either one of us has realized, I think." She stood up, pulled a beaten cardboard box from the top of her closet and set it on the bed. "The night your father died, I didn't know what to do, so I gave up on lot things that I loved because it hurt and I've been doing it ever since. But, _by far_, my worst mistake was letting you do the same."

Duke stared as she pulled a worn lump of blue fabric from the box. It looked so much smaller now than it had the last time he'd seen it, but the faded Michigan Wolverines ball cap probably fit much better. "But I got rid of that. _It was ash_." He distinctly remembers throwing it into the fireplace sometime in the black hours after his father died. His hand throbbed in time with his heartbeat, just as it had then, with the memory. He remembers regretting it, and coming back hours later only to find a pile of soot and his mother's ring remaining.

But his mother shook her head gently. "I was scared. I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to look at the things that would remind me how happy we'd all been. But when I saw you take this off, all I could think of was the number of times _you_ ran around laughing with it on. I pulled it out, right after you left. I was going to fail alone, I knew that. But I wanted to remember that you _had_ been happy."

She carefully brushed off the bill and handed the hat to Duke. "But those things only carry so far. I want you to be happy _now. _ Not to spend so much time worrying about how to avoid the bad that you never get back to the good. Full lives are made of both."

Duke started at the cap in his hands, and clenched his jaw. He was seventeen. He didn't need to cry over a stupid hat…

But he did anyway, and suddenly, it felt _really, really _good to stop caring about what to do and just act on how he felt. His mother sat next to him silently, one hand on his, and that made it even better. When he finally managed to wipe his face and speak clearly a few moments later, Duke pulled the chain from his neck and held it up. _'We _are_ so much alike.' _ "I guess I should return this to you, huh?"

Cheryl shook her head once again. "No, that's yours. My time with it is over, and you've made it yours more than it could ever be mine." Duke started to protest, but his mom would have none of it. "Think of it like an heirloom. You know that hat was one of your father's?"

Duke rolled his eyes. This was getting back to familiar territory and he was grateful for it. "Yeah, I _know. _He played pitcher for Michigan. Won a college world series game in it and everything." It had been awhile, but he _had_ heard that story before.

"No, I mean your father was given that hat by your grandfather, _my_ father, when we were in high school. He played ice hockey for Michigan in the fifties." She elaborated, pulling the hat over his head. "Won a national title and everything. They'd both be proud of you." His mom smiled. "Even if you go to Indiana. But be prepared to explain to me exactly what a _Hoosier_ is."

* * *

Rob was dejectedly slumped on the couch by the time Duke and his mother returned downstairs. "You guys might be better off not watching. Fourth inning and it's not going well for the Tigers."

"When does it ever?" Duke shrugged. He felt exhausted, but was torn between enjoying this return to the status quo and demanding answers from his visitor. He was past being angry for Olivia's sake- she was the guy's sister after all, and if she were speaking to him there was no reason Duke should hold out- but he felt like a totally different person now than the one he'd been over the summer. Was his old best friend still someone he looked up to? And if not, where did that leave them? _Who is this person?_

The three of them watched the game with minimal conversation until Detroit was soundly defeated. Duke was left with no choice but to speak as the boys stood to stretch. "Well, there's always Game 2, right?"

Rob chuckled as they walked to the door. "Yeah, I'll watch for you. Won't you be stuck in frilly dress land?" Sideways glance yet again, "Uh, no offense, Ms. L." Rob Lennox had been his best friend for years. He was easygoing. He was good at soccer. But he was prone to being monumentally stupid at times, and this seemed to be one of those times. Duke waited until they were outside the front door, and Rob turned to him once again. "So, I'll see you around, man? You coming up to visit Yale anytime soon? Coach says they like your style."

That was enough for Duke. "Christ, Rob, really? Does everything really seem okay to you?"

All Duke got was a disbelieving expression in return. "Are you telling me that you're still mad about the thing with 'Liv this summer? Damn, Duke, even _Olivia_ is over that. And you know how she is."

A month ago, Duke would have been furious over a comment like that. Not just because of what it said about Olivia, but because fighting to keep things the same was what he did. Now, though, his thoughts were full of his mother, and Dinklage, and Viola and his friends. All the people the cared about, none of whom were perfect, but who did their best to make things better for him. It was well past the time to start doing a little of that for himself, too.

"It's not about Olivia being angry. It's not about me being angry. It's about _you_, thinking that us being angry was the only problem. _You_ are the problem. You protected your friends, I get that. But you don't seem to think there was any cost to it. And that's a problem for _me_."

Rob regarded him thoughtfully. "You know," he began quietly, "Olivia didn't speak to me until Labor Day weekend, when I came home to visit. She said that she'd spent the last six weeks being furious with you, and when she'd tried to argue with you about it, she couldn't remember why. She said that had made her even angrier with me, that she'd acted that way."

Duke nodded, remembering how terrifying and empowering it had been to clear the air with her in the hallway. _'I'm sorry for being a bitch to you this summer, too. And every day since. I know that wasn't your fault either.' _But he felt a tug of empathy for Olivia, too, because it was scary to find yourself acting differently, getting angry, because someone else's actions. It made you do crazy things.

_He leaned wearily against the lamppost on the quad, wondering whether going to the parking lot or his dorm would end up being the best bet…He'd learned his lesson. He lost his way far too easily where this was concerned... "I've messed up too many things already. I'm not going to add you to the list. I'm sorry." _

But a voice in the present intruded on his memory. "But it sucked for me too. I didn't realize how much until I found myself talking to Olivia and making up shit at random times this summer to cover for her boyfriend. But by that time, it was so much easier to keep lying than to be the person that hurt her with the truth. It would have been easier to come clean if I hadn't given a shit."

Duke suddenly felt for him. It was a story that sounded eerily familiar, when put in those terms. Hadn't they all been looking for the same sort of forgiveness, at some point?

In Dinklage's office, just before the Cornwall game: _"It was me. __It was all for me.__ I thought that if I could take Sebastian from bottom rung to starter, it would prove to you that __I__ was good enough. __Great__, even. I __knew__ I could. But I didn't tell him, and then it became about all this other stuff. And it was all wrong. Sebastian's going to bring us all down, and it's my fault for letting it happen_."

Viola on the field, later that day: '_I didn't lie to you, Duke…well I did, but not about this._'

Olivia, in his hallway: '_I'm sorry. I'm sorry for using you the other night. That never should have happened. It was a bad idea all around.'_

Weeks later, Viola again:_'If he had thought watching Viola walk away after that game like she __didn't__ care was painful, hearing that she really __did__ was agonizing.' "Hypothetically- if I were just a regular girl, and had never joined the team- would your answer be different?"_

It was easy to hurt people you didn't care about, but it was so much more common to hurt the ones you do.

So it came to this: If he wanted to forgive one person for lying, he'd have to let go of his anger to everyone. People made mistakes, himself included. He'd have to believe that he really knew Viola, the _real_ Viola, well enough to love her with or without a wig, with or without soccer. He'd have to believe that _he _was strong enough to love soccer and his team to still do what was best for them.

It had been soccer that opened the door, but they'd spoken about too many other things, shared too much between them. It wasn't that he was in love with Viola-and-soccer. He loved soccer. He loved Viola. Those two things could exist, _did exist_, apart from each other.

It meant admitting that his best friend might no longer really be the _best, _but was still a decent human being. That his former crush was capable of being a _thing-he-won't-say _but could be sweet too. It meant admitting that he was in love with a super-annoying liar of a former roommate. It meant admitting that maybe he could trust himself to be a team captain _and_ a boyfriend, that there was room in him for both. That other people made mistakes, and it wasn't always his job to get it right, either.

Stupid, stupid, things.

But unavoidable, also.

* * *

He'd done the debutante thing often enough to know the score. His mom had somehow dragged him into being a standby escort every year since he was tall enough to walk next to a girl in heels, and although he'd only been called upon a few times the whole event itself was well known to him.

_Step One: Allies_. That would be the easy part. She'd asked him to come. She would be there, but he wanted to approach her in the right setting. Somewhere not too crowded. Definitely not at dinner, and it had to be before the party. He would need insider information. Aside from Viola herself, he only knew two of the other debs this year: Olivia and Sebastian's Ex. Urgh. But Sebastian was probably escorting Olivia- she wasn't on the standby list- so maybe he'd help.

_Step Two: Don't make an idiot of yourself._ Trickier, that. But Duke couldn't forget how easy it was to talk to Viola, when they'd been in his dorm room speaking off the cuff. Or on the phone. Or at the very country club he'd be attending tonight, trying to take a photo. He'd take whatever idiocy his mind threw at him, for that.

_Step Three: Results. _He'd play that one by ear.

Sunday morning, Duke awoke ridiculously early and immediately reached for his cell. Sebastian was a late sleeper, but there was a solid chance he'd only just gone to bed. Duke called four times straight before a rough voice finally answered.

"Oh my God, Duke, what the _hell_ do you want at this hour?"

"I need some help."

"No shit, you do, man. It's six in the morning! Jesus, I didn't even know there was one of those in the morning! Did you go home for the weekend?"

"When is your sister going to be at the deb thing tonight?"

"Aw, you called for that? Lame. She was going to meet Kia and Yvonne this morning- they have an early game- and then I think she was helping Mom setup at the club. All I know is I'm supposed to be there to meet Liv at six. _The other six_."

_Damn_. He'd been hoping to get there beforehand and surprise her, but it now sounded like that would be hard. And he really didn't want to go begging around Cornwall for help. "Does she hang out with anyone else outside of school? Someone who wouldn't be really involved this today?"

"Uuummmm…" Sebastian yawned in to the phone. "Try Paul, maybe? He's already graduated. Works at that super yuppie salon 'cross town. _Cristofer's._"

"Are you kidding me? I _hate_ that place."

"Me too! Chicks, man."

"Uh, yeah." Duke wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but Sebastian had already starting snoring again. _'Whatever.'_

Cristofer's didn't open until ten, but Duke was spared some of the waiting time when his doorbell rang just past nine o'clock. Toby and Andrew stood on his doorstep grinning manically.

"We went to drag your sorry ass down to breakfast this morning." Andrew offered by way of greeting. He walked through the door and began helping himself to cereal in the kitchen. "But your roommate said you were home."

"He _also_ said you were plotting. So we came to help." Toby added. "Or, you know, watch the fiery disaster unfold firsthand. Whichever."

"You both suck." Duke eyed Toby thoughtfully. "When's the last time you had a haircut?"

"I don't know…couple mon- Why are you asking me that?"

"Get in the car."

* * *

"Hey, it's Mr. Pedestrian hair! You come back for a trim?" Paul, as Jude Law Jr. was actually called, remembered Duke. Had he really made such a strong impression that this guy would remember so much time later? Whether that was because of his resistance to aromatherapy in their previous meeting or because of God-knows-what Viola has been telling him was hard to say. "Two months is usually about right on turnaround time for your style."

Had it been only two months? Had his entire life gone through so many ups and down in so short a time? It felt like yesterday.

"I guess the jig is up now. But seriously, I did nice work on her, right? I mean, you really couldn't tell." But before Toby could really understand what was happening, he was ushered in to a chair and under a pair of scissors. Paul did not cease talking once. "So what can I do for you guys? You all need spiffed up for tonight? We're booked solid with debs this afternoon, but I could squeak in a little-"

"That's sort of why we're here." Duke interrupted. "Viola invited to meet her there tonight. But I want to make sure it's right. I want her to have fun."

"So you did get her note. Nice. What'd you have in mind? You need me to let you in a back door or something?"

"I don't really know. Do you think you could get her somewhere to meet me without telling her why?" Something without an audience would be best. Maybe outside. And someplace where he didn't have to go through his mother first would be even better.

"I'll do you one better. Wear a tux. You're going to relieve me of my escort duty. They call her name, you step up: it'll be like something out of a movie. I'll make sure she's photo-ready. You guys are going to be the center of attention. Her mom will _love_ it." The guy was practically cackling with glee.

Duke shook his head. "I think I should talk to her first." There would be no more mistakes. No more miscommunication. He was going to say what he had to say outright, and let the chips falls where they may.

"I can handle that." Paul agreed. "You know where the lake is in garden at the club?"

Andrew chuckled behind him, because Duke had lost his driving privileges for two weeks once for pushing him into it during a luncheon a few years ago. _'And if he's not careful, he's going to go in again…'_ Yes, he knew where the lake was.

"Viola likes to hang out there to avoid her mom at these sorts of things. You wait there and I'll do the rest."

Duke finally grinned. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

"What would any of you do without me?" Paul scoffed. "The whole lot of you are ridiculous. I'm so glad I'm out of high school."

"Great. _Please_ can we get the hell out of here?" Toby finally whined.

Paul's face fell a little, and then he shook a pair of shears accusingly at Toby. "You're not here for a haircut at all, are you?"

"No! And watch where you're pointing those things." Toby squirmed.

"Word of advice: Don't argue with the man holding sharp objects to your head. Now sit down and be quiet so I can make you pretty for your lady tonight." Paul's voice was knowing, and he waved off Toby as he tried to deny it. "I was at the Illyria game. You're bold, kid. Bring her out tonight. She's _obviously_ not shy."

He glanced around. "Hell, everybody come. I've been rounding up guests all weekend. Viola didn't send out any of her invitations and Daphne will kill me if there are empty seats at our tables." He eyed Andrew up and down. "You can sit next to me."

Duke's shoulders shook with laughter the entire way back to his house.

* * *

Duke waited silently in the garden outside the Stratford Country Club, debating his words. The litany in his head was familiar.

_Hi Viola. How are you? _Right. Like that would sweep her off her feet.

_Viola! Long time no see._ Lame.

_Vi! What's up?_ Even more lame.

_That guy you used to date is a jerk. You deserve better. _What was he, a girl?

_Hi. _

_Hi._

He stood still when he heard footsteps along the path. Viola walked directly to the side of the lake, clutching the edges of her jacket like a lifeline. She'd passed quite close by him, but had continued on, lost in her thoughts. Was he featured in them? She'd _asked_ him to be here. She deserved to hear what he wanted to say. She sighed, and for a moment, Duke felt like an intruder into a very personal moment.

Except, of course, for a greens keeper with the worst timing in the world. He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity. _'If the sprinklers come on while we're out here, I'm going to punch him.'_ But Viola was speaking to him, acting as though…

_She thought that was him._ She _was_ glad he was there. Was it wrong to be a little smug? The knowledge drew him unerringly closer, walking forward without thought. When she finally turned around, their eyes met.

_Hypothetically- if I were just a regular girl, and had never joined the team- would your answer be different?_

He didn't have an answer for her then. As a regular girl, Viola would never have interested him. He would have given her no more thought than any other girl he'd ever met. But she _wasn't _a regular girl, and that made all the difference. A regular girl _wouldn't_ have joined the team; a _regular girl_ wouldn't have been his roommate for two weeks. The things they had gone through had gotten them to where they were.

He cared about the conversations they had in quite voices. He cared about the way she dedicated herself to the things she did: studying, eating, having fun. He cared about the way she smiled, and how her lips had felt against his in the middle of a carnival. He had come so close to never knowing those things. But what was the right way to say it? How could he explain, in the twenty minutes he had to get her back inside, how the past few weeks was now the measurement of everything? A lifetime of change in so short a time. It was like the months passed as days.

"Well, a few days ago, I kissed this girl at a kissing booth and now…I just can't seem to stop thinking about her." _'It wouldn't have mattered, if you never joined the team. You were fascinating from the beginning. As long as you were you, it was inevitable.' "_Plus, I miss my roommate. I really liked him." _'I was angry, because I thought you took that person away from me. I was scared, because I needed him. I wouldn't be the same without everything you gave me.' _He said it deliberately, because he knew it would take them to the ground they'd avoided. Viola, as always, met the subject head on.

"I know I should have told you who I was, but I was afraid." Viola's voice is soft, but her eyes are on his without hesitation. _'We've been keeping each other at arm's length, because we were both afraid. But I reached the point, just like you did, where the things we were trying to save didn't need protecting anymore.'_

"Well you know maybe if I'd of known you were a girl, we wouldn't have talked like we did and gotten to know each other the same way." '_And that's why I can't answer your question. You were never a regular girl; if you had been we would have never met, never given a second glance…_"And that would be a shame."

Viola smiled then, soft and dangerous, and Duke knew that for once,('_For once!_') he'd come up with the right words. They were back to being _them_.

He leaned in, brushing his hand against her cheek. How many times had he dreamed of this? How often had he rolled his soccer ball under his palm, wondering if the curve, the smoothness was in any way similar to this face? He leaned in. Viola's eyes drifted closed. It was the perfect moment.

Before the sprinklers came on.

Viola, standing directly in the path of a sprinkler head, shrieked and yanked at the edges of her jacket once again, trying desperately to hide under it. Duke laughed and grabbed her hand, ducking between two rows of fake sea grass with a well-practiced ease.

"How did you stay so dry?" She whined. "Not fair!"

Duke shrugged. "You know, I'm not positive, but I bet you have a spare set of clothes back in the building. Are you up for the challenge?" He grinned, and rapped at the back door. Paul opened it immediately and gave them a once over.

"Are you _kidding me_? I'm good but you are really pushing it here, Vi. Grab a towel and follow me." He pushed on Duke's shoulder and they both ignored Viola's confused look. "Escorts _that_ way. Move it."

Duke grinned. "I switched around some of the cue cards. Viola is dead last, so we've got enough time."

Viola looked from one to the other, gaping. "Oh my God! You're going to make me a…a…_debutante_!"

* * *

"Jackass."

"Loser"

"Dipwad."

"Tool."

"Asshole."

"Douchebag."

"Would you guys give it a rest already?"

Sebastian was all kinds of cranky without his headphones on, but there were obviously some people that Duke was just not meant to reconcile with_. _Justin Drayton was, _would always be_, one of those people.

He had a solid thirty minutes of standing and waiting in a tiny hallway with his roommate and Justin Drayton and Duke cursed himself for not looking for Drayton's name and sticking it as far as possible from his own.

Ah, hindsight.

* * *

By the time his mother announced Drayton's name, Duke was actually feeling grateful towards Sebastian's horrible ex just for _taking him away_. When Viola's name was finally called, no mysterious brunette appeared on the opposite stairs. Where was she? Had she changed her mind? Had she run? After all they had overcome, he was going to fail _now_?

The longest twenty seconds of Duke's life: then, like magic, like _Viola_, she bolted around the railing and up the stairs, a bit out of breath. She winked and walked forward, with Duke joining her a moment later. He would not waste another moment. His mother would kill him. His friends would never let him hear the end of it. It would surely come back to bite him the next time they played Cornwall…but in spite of that, Duke leaned down and _finally_ captured Viola's lips with his own once again.

"_If music be the food of love, play on."_

* * *

_Fin._

__And thus we conclude our little drama. Those crazy kids managed to work it out after all. *sniff*

I hope you all enjoyed this overly-drawn out ride! I certainly have. As promised, there will be a much much much MUCH shorter Graduation Day sequel coming up in the future, and who knows what else? It's a bright new year!

Please review and give me your feedback! I hate asking outright like that, but it's really all I've got now that this story is over. It doesn't matter how long its been, or what you have to say. I'd love to hear from you!

As I said above, I offer up a heartfelt thanks to all who have read through this beast. You are to be commended!


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